


Easier to Build Strong Children Than Repair Broken Adults

by haloud, MayGlenn



Series: To Raise A Child [2]
Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: (Almost) EVeryone Is Gay, Alien Powers, Almost Kiss, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Arturo Ortecho is The Best, BAMF Alex Manes, Background Echo (they're already perfect not much to change in a fix it fic), Bullying, Bullying Jim Valenti into being a better man, Caulfield, Child Abuse, Coming Out, Ding dong the witch is dead, Dreams and Nightmares, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Friends, Family Feels, First Kiss, Gen, Halloween, Homophobic Language, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Jesse Manes is His Own Warning, Major Character Injury, Michael Ortecho, Mimi DeLuca is the best, Mutual Pining, Past Jim Valenti/Helena Ortecho (mentioned), Pre-Marosa, Prophetic Visions, Protective Siblings, Racist Language, Recreational Drug Use, Reunions, Sexuality Crisis, Sibling Bonding, We're working on Kyle Valenti too, happy childhood au, pre-malex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-08-19
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:47:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 62,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24854068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haloud/pseuds/haloud, https://archiveofourown.org/users/MayGlenn/pseuds/MayGlenn
Summary: Something broke in this town, once.Michael Ortecho has his life pretty put together. Starting high school is tough, sure, and dealing with teenage hormones and high school drama is never fun, but he’s the happiest he’s ever been, with more family and friends than he feels he deserves. He's working hard and studying harder to repay all his debts—to make the most of his new life.Elsewhere in Roswell, though, the cracks begin to show.
Relationships: Isabel Evans & Max Evans & Michael Guerin, Isobel Evans & Rosa Ortecho, Jim Valenti & Kyle Valenti, Jim Valenti/Michelle Valenti, Maria DeLuca & Alex Manes, Michael Guerin & Alex Manes, Michael Guerin & Walt Sanders, Pre-Maria DeLuca/Rosa Ortecho, Pre-Michael Guerin/Alex Manes
Series: To Raise A Child [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1751017
Comments: 350
Kudos: 228





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story takes place in 2004.

“I can’t believe you want to go camping for our birthday!” Isobel complained. Camping, like a lot of things, like eating an entire burger at the diner, was something Isobel had recently decided she didn't do anymore. She kicked the bar to punctuate her point.

“Don’t kick that! I have to clean it up!” Michael Ortecho complained from the kitchen, where he was prepping food to go out, throwing cheese, lettuce, tomato, green chile, and onions on a fresh burger. Still too young to work any of the equipment in the kitchen, Michael, like his sisters, helped out where he was allowed, which, for the most part, meant dishes and some food prep. He tended to be kind of snarky with customers, so Arturo didn’t let him wait tables very often. 

All three of Arturo’s children had been so excited to start working at the Crashdown officially, because it meant they finally started getting an allowance in the form of a _paycheck_. 

“It’s his turn to pick, Iz,” Max said, though he was mostly distracted by the pair of pretty brown eyes that were working the cash register and in charge of making shakes, which she did carefully but not quickly. 

“It’s not even real camping, Izzy,” Michael said, shouting to Rosa, “Order up!” before continuing. “We’re pitching a tent outside Mr. Valenti’s cabin. If you need to use the bathroom or get tired of us farting you can just go sleep on the couch inside.” 

“Miguel!” Arturo shouted from further back in the kitchen, saying in Spanish, “This is a family establishment!”

“What did I say?!” Michael shouted back, also in Spanish, voice cracking. “Lay off, Papi!” 

“We can go inside if any bears try to eat us,” Max also suggested. 

“There are _not_ bears!” Isobel said like she wanted it to be true more than knew it to be true.

“Nope. Mountain lions, though,” Rosa sneered, walking by and leaning her elbows on the bar. “Can I take your plate, ma’am? You look _done_.” 

Isobel was probably the only person not intimidated by Rosa Ortecho, and she stared her down, meeting fake smile customer service with fake smile customer. “Actually, I would like a box, please. Do you know how many calories are in this thing?” 

“Liz!” Rosa complained, ignoring the request for the box as Liz approached, holding the shake carefully with both hands. “He ordered the Peanut Butter Blastoff, not the Little Green Man!” 

“O-oh,” Liz said, looking worried. 

“No, it’s fine! Little Green Man is fine,” Max said, taking it from her and taking a long sip, never taking his eyes off her face.

“Ten bucks says he tells us later how the flavor doesn’t matter ‘cause the color matches her dress,” Michael whispered loudly to Isobel, who snorted.

Rosa rolled her eyes and handed over the box. 

“I-I can remake it, I’m sorry,” Liz said, thinking about money, and the waste of the ice cream and flavor. “Or I’ll take it off your check—” 

“Liz, it’s fine,” Max insisted warmly, though even Michael could tell, telepathically, how much Max wasn’t exactly enjoying his shake. 

The Evanses _did_ get generous allowances, and they were taught to tip well, so Rosa liked it when they came in. Rosa liked it better when Michael handled them, though. 

“ _Anyway,_ ” Michael said, ignoring the way Max was blinking his puppy eyes at Liz, trying to get her to sit down for a couple minutes, “Mr. Valenti is going to pick us up Saturday afternoon, we’re going to have a cookout, and then, _yes,_ we’re going to camp. Under the stars. I got a new star chart as an early birthday gift and I want to see how good I’m getting at using it. And then Mr. Valenti will bring us back Sunday morning.”

“Our birthday is _Monday,_ dork. You’re dragging me out into the wilderness and it’s not even for our actual _birthday?”_

“Monday,” Michael said in a mocking voice, then dropped it to continue, “Monday is Kate Long’s boy-girl party, and I know how much you want to go, so we moved it up a day. You’re welcome.” He half-sang the last bit.

Isobel was briefly furious that she had forgotten a date, but she decided to get over it enough to be grateful to Michael for his consideration. “Okay, fine, fine, _thank you_. Does that mean you’re coming to Kate’s party?” 

Isobel stole a sip of Max’s shake coyly. “Maria and Alex are supposed to be there…” 

Michael ducked his head to assemble another burger and to try and hide his blush from his sister.

“So what?” he said, making a valiant attempt to keep his voice level, “I can see them any time I like, I don’t need to go to an obnoxious girl’s party for it.” Then he scowled. “Any time Alex isn’t grounded, that is. God, his dad sucks.”

“That’s a fair point. Maria will be there; Alex, as usual, is a maybe,” Rosa said. “I’ll be there, though, so you can tell Dad I’ll watch you two.” 

“You mean _we’ll_ watch _you_ ,” Liz said. 

“Ugh, no one invited you, Liz.” 

“I invited her.”

“No one invited you, either, Max.”

“Liz, you said you didn’t want to go—that you’d stay home and tape that documentary for me—”

“Less talking, more burgers! More customers!” Arturo said, but he was laughing as he scolded them. “Chatty children don’t clock out until six!”

All three of Arturo’s kids hung their grinning heads at that and got back to work, leaving their friends and siblings to their food.

…

“Thanks, Mr. Valenti!” Max and Michael chorused, waving as Jim headed inside his cabin, leaving the kids alone to set up their tent.

Isobel grumbled, digging through her giant purse for her sunscreen while the boys argued about tent pegs and mallets. She’d smack one of them with a mallet if they didn’t put some shade up faster.

“You could help, you know,” Michael pointed out, but he was having too much fun with the engineering project of constructing a tent and trying to argue with _Lord of the Rings_ boy about it when he clearly didn’t know shit. Even Isobel got in on the bullying Max sport: 

“Dad always puts up the tent, Max, you don’t know anything. Listen to Michael before I get weird tan lines out here.” 

“I always help! I know the...the general principle!” Max insisted, though, yeah, to be fair, he had read way more books that featured camping than he had actually gone camping. 

By the time the tent was ready, Isobel had retreated to the shade of the cabin porch, where she sat fanning herself with a sun-bleached fishing magazine. Once Michael crawled in and out of the tent a few times without it collapsing on top of him, Max waved frantically at her, and with a long-suffering sigh, Isobel went to join her brothers.

Even if she only admitted it to herself, camping _did_ turn out to be kind of fun. After the sun was almost down, Mr. Valenti came out to help them start a campfire and they made dinner by roasting various things in tinfoil packets—not the most elegant cooking method, but Isobel couldn’t even find it in her to complain, laughing with her brothers until the stars came out.

Michael unfurled his star chart—he still hadn’t told anyone who gave it to him, which, honestly, was a dead giveaway—and wandered a little away from them, face pointed up directly at the sky.

Isobel squirmed into Max’s hoodie. Even in June, the nights cooled down and could get a little chilly.

“You’ve gotten awfully quiet,” Max teased lightly. “Enjoying yourself after all?”

“Michael’s making this whole ‘caring where we come from’ thing awful tempting,” she said, watching their brother watch the sky with such adoration. 

“I’d like to know where he got the—Michael, can you even read that?” he called. “Get over here and eat some s’mores!” 

“Of course I can read it, who do you think I am?” Michael scoffed, flopping down in the folding chair beside Max. 

“A huge nerd.”

“Thanks, Iz. Point in my favor.”

“Well, tell us how to read it!” Max begged. 

“Tell us who gave it to you first,” Isobel said, already knowing the answer but wanting to make Michael squirm. 

“Just a friend of mine,” Michael said, red tinting his face, easily disguised by the firelight, though Isobel wasn’t fooled. He hurriedly turned to Max and said, “So instead of latitude and longitude, there’s declination and right ascension…”

“Which friend?” Isobel pressed. “Was it Maria? Lindsay? She’s obviously got a crush on you, you know.”

“Isobel, leave him alone, I’m trying to _learn_ ,” Max said, helpfully. They could both tell that Michael was hiding something, even across their psychic connection, but where Isobel found this was something she absolutely wanted to investigate, Max wanted to give him some space. 

“You can do way better than Lindsay, though,” Isobel plowed onward. “Tell me who gave you the star chart and I’ll set you up with any girl in school.”

“It’s not even that big a deal, okay? I-It was just Alex, okay? He gave it to me early because we never know when his dad will let him go out and he didn’t want to miss our birthday. He has stuff for you too, but I was hanging out with him after—”

“Hey, Michael, it’s okay,” Max said, grabbing his shoulder and giving it a comforting little shake, cutting off Michael’s rambling.

A slightly awkward moment of silence passed, then Isobel moved things along, not knowing if she should apologize or something. She shifted her chair a little closer to Michael’s and said, “Hey, how come you’re everyone’s favorite? No one gave _me_ an early birthday present.”

That got a laugh out of Michael, so Isobel smiled, satisfied.

“What do you give the girl who already has everything?” Max retorted. 

Isobel gasped. “I do _not_ have everything! I need a new phone desperately, Max! If you told mom we don’t need anything for our birthday this year again, I’ll never forgive you.” 

Max chuckled. “Oh, and our parents have something for you again, Michael. Mom said she’d bring it when she came to pick us up.” 

“Oh, um, cool,” Michael said, faking enthusiasm, but not doing it very well. It was...nice, the way the Evanses tried to include him, if awkward most of the time. To avoid having to say anything else, he floated his water bottle over so he could wash down another smore.

“Ugh. Show off.”

“You’re one to talk! Imagine how I feel.”

Michael and Isobel shared a laugh at Max’s expense, and Michael said, “Hey Iz, how many alarm clocks did Max break this week?”

“Forget alarm clocks. Mom has taken to driving to Costco in Lubbock to buy lightbulbs,” Isobel cackled. 

“Isobel!” Max grumbled, trying to shove her off her camping chair. 

“She’s convinced the room is haunted and she paid Mimi DeLuca to ‘smudge’ the house! Dad thinks it’s an electrical problem and had _three_ different electricians out! Turns out it’s just—”

“ISOBEL!” Max said, and tackled her. 

Isobel shrieked, laughing. 

“You’re just a late bloomer, Max. You’ll catch up to us eventually,” Michael said, all smugness, as Isobel shoved Max off of her.

The twins wrestled, and Michael stood up to take another go at his star chart. He wanted to find something really cool to show Alex next time he got the chance. But when he turned to pick it up, his foot caught on the leg of his chair, sending the chair and Michael both sprawling—the chair out of the circle of firelight, and Michael into the center of it. He threw his hand out to catch himself.

Michael’s scream split the air as his hand landed right on the edge of the fire pit, one of the blazing-hot stones searing itself straight into his palm. On instinct, Michael rolled away from the fire, clutching his injured hand to his chest and howling.

The light immediately came on in the cabin, and Isobel and Max ran to Michael, both of them screaming their brother’s name.

“Shit! Shit, Michael, your hand!” Isobel screeched, afraid to touch him. 

“Michael! Michael, oh my God!” Max also cried, not afraid at all of touching Michael and pulling him up. 

His hand had gone into the hottest part of the coals, pressing down hard, and one hot coal stuck to the palm of his hand, still burning, before Max knocked it off. 

“Hey, you guys okay out there?” Jim called from the cabin. 

Michael, sobbing and gasping for breath, couldn’t answer, and Max seemed frozen, so Isobel ran shouting to Mr. Valenti.

“Michael fell, and his hand, he—”

But before Isobel could say anything else, before Jim could run to the kids’ side, a light very different from the fire spread from Max’s hand and into Michael’s. Only seconds passed, but it seemed longer, everyone held in suspended animation; even Michael’s cries stopped in his throat as he was mesmerized by Max’s hand and the odd heat, so different from the burning agony, spread through his body.

Then the light was gone, and Michael was left staring at a hand that was healed and whole and not at all burned, and Max collapsed into the dirt and puked right beside the fire.

“Max? Michael!” Isobel cried, and then shouted, “Max!” again, and went to his side, since Michael seemed fine. 

Jim Valenti scooped Michael up with the strength of a concerned parent. “Michael, are you hurt, son?” 

“I—I’m,” Michael snuffled a little bit, clearing his throat, wiping his nose, “I’m okay, I’m okay. It was an accident, I fell and my hand landed in the fire, and Max…Max _healed_ me.”

Max struggled into sitting up, accepting a tissue and a water bottle from Isobel, who hugged him to her. “I, I did?” he said.

“Yeah, dude, look!” Michael held up his whole left hand. “What the hell! How did you do that?”

“I don’t know, I just, I suddenly knew that I could…”

Since Michael seemed okay, Jim picked Max up this time, to check him over. “You feeling okay, Max? Drink some water? I got ginger ale in the house…” 

“No, sir, no. I’m okay. Just, uh...”

“You don’t have any nail polish remover, do you, Mr. Valenti?” Isobel asked. “The kind with acetone. It, uh, sometimes makes us feel better.”

Jim paused. “You’re pulling my leg.” 

Isobel shook her head. “No, sir.”

“Okay. Okay, then.” When you were dealing with alien kids, sometimes you just had to run with it. “Michael, run inside and check the medicine cabinet and under the sink in the bathroom, though I doubt I have any. Let’s put this fire out and head inside, okay?”

Michael ran inside and ransacked the bathroom, but he couldn’t find anything. Probably not a lot of people who wore nail polish made regular trips out to this old cabin. Empty-handed, he headed back into the living room, where Isobel and Max were seated on the couch. Isobel pulled him down on her other side and pulled both boys close. They could feel how upset she was, how deeply hurt by hearing and feeling her brothers in pain and not being able to help, so neither boy argued.

“So, uh...here on Earth we like a good ginger ale when we’re feelin’ sick…you know, when there’s not acetone lying around…” 

“I’m not joking, Mr. Valenti,” Isobel insisted. 

Jim raised his hands. “Didn’t think you were. Uh. Ginger ales all around, I think. I’ll be right back.” 

“Max, did you know you could do that and didn’t tell me?” Isobel hissed, when Jim was gone.

“No, I promise, I’m serious, I just...suddenly knew how to do it! Is that not how it worked for you guys?”

“Kind of?” Michael said, looking at Isobel for reassurance. “I mean, for me it was like I didn’t know how to do it, until I got really mad one day and it just...happened. And after that I still didn’t know how to control it for almost a year.”

“Great, so I could randomly magically heal people?” Max asked. 

“Better than magically randomly exploding lightbulbs every time you have a naughty dream,” Isobel pointed out. 

Jim came back with the ginger ales and the kids fell silent, not even looking at each other. After three years of not selling them out, they had come to trust him a little bit more, but there was still a ground-in fear of exposure in each of them, only enhanced by the way it echoed among their mental connection, feeding off each other.

Michael sipped his drink glumly, furious at himself for being clumsy and ruining his birthday trip. Next year it would be Max’s turn again; he’d have to wait until they were seventeen to choose again. Damn it. Well, at least he hadn’t been holding the star chart when he fell, and that thought made him antsy to run back outside and grab it off the ground before it could get ruined.

“We can go back out,” Max suggested, noting Michael’s frustration. “No harm done. I feel a lot better for the ginger ale, Mr. Valenti. And we’ll use the flashlights instead of the fire.”

“Yeah,” Isobel agreed, surprising both boys, who looked at Michael pointedly. _You’re not the only one who can suffer to keep this family happy_ , she said primly across their psychic bond. 

Max rolled his eyes, but laughed, while Jim looked vaguely like he had missed something. ( _Maybe it was a meme_ , he thought.) 

“Okay, if you kids are sure,” Jim said, resolving to stay up until they were asleep to keep an eye on things. God only knows what trouble they would get into next—and God wouldn’t help him once Arturo got his hands on him if Michael actually got hurt next time.

Michael was the first to get back outside, moving his star chart into the safety of the tent before grabbing the bucket of water and dousing the fire all the way. 

They were all fairly tired after all the excitement. Max was out first, curled up around the lantern that would probably be toast in the morning. Isobel followed not long after, soothed by the mental connection that proved everyone was okay now.

Michael, though, dragged his sleeping bag back outside to sleep under the sky.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Our version of the Alex and Maria teenage kiss.
> 
> Chapter contains references to homophobia and homophobic slurs (thanks kyle, you're a peach)

“You didn’t have to miss out on the party of the century on my account.”

Alex’s eyes stayed trained on his own hand on the table between them. He was smiling, but it was a small and nervous thing; his words were teasing, but there was a thread of insecurity at their core. 

So Maria kicked him under the table at the same time she said sweetly, “Are you kidding? You’re a lifesaver. I would have just snuck out to let all their horses run wild and ended up in jail. This is much better.”

Her mom was working the late shift, so it was just the two of them, all the snacks in the kitchen, and Maria’s makeup spilling across the kitchen table. Alex wasn’t talking about the thing his face did whenever he watched her or Rosa do their own, but Maria didn’t need him to; she just had to trust him to tell her if she was wrong or going too far. But he hadn’t, so far.

"I think you look so cool with black nail polish. I'll put this in my locker and you can put it on for school and take it off after," Maria said.

"Maybe I want to leave it on," Alex said. "Only one thousand two hundred and sixty nine days to go to the day I don’t have to listen to my dad anymore. I can already taste freedom."

He was only being a little bit sarcastic, and Maria only frowned at him a little bit. 

“Has he been…really bad lately?” She asked tentatively, bending over Alex’s hand to touch up his nails. Then she chanced a peek at his face, wincing at his impassive mask, and said, “Oh, maybe you could get a job this summer or something! Some of the farms around here hire kids, I know it wouldn’t be ideal, but maybe you could get out of the house…?”

"Yeah, I'd still need his permission, though," Alex shrugged. "I have an app ready to go for the Emporium. I really don't want to do ranch stuff. Trying to wait til dad's in a good mood, see if he'll sign it."

“OMG, you’d look so cute in the visor,” Maria said, and she blew on his fingers to help them dry and straightened up, leaning on the table to be closer to him. “Would you give tours? I’ll come by every day just to give you a break from the tourists; I’ll get Liz and Michael in on it too. We’ll look out for you, no worries.” She winked.

Alex sighed, letting out a little laugh. "I had no doubt that you wouldn't. You guys are the best."

Then Alex fanned his hands out and smiled. "I love this color. Want me to do yours next?"

“Sure!” Maria dug in her makeup then handed him a neon green she’d gotten for her birthday. She waited until the first cool touch of the brush before speaking again, tentatively. “Seriously, though, how have you been? I feel like I’ve barely seen you this summer so far.”

She didn’t want to make him talk about anything he didn’t want to; she didn’t want to be the one making him relive bad memories. All she wanted was to give him a safe place to open up, but she didn’t know if that was something he wanted, too.

"Better when I'm with you and Liz. And Rosa. And Michael," Alex said. He wasn't into oversharing, but he didn't want his best friend to think he was afraid to talk to her, so he spoke while he painted, managing to maintain a biting sarcasm throughout. "He's basically completely brainwashed Flint by now, so that's cool. Any time he wants to talk it's all about what branch of the military I want to go into. That's him giving me a choice. Uh. We went survival camping last weekend and it sucked. So you can understand why I don't want to spend  _ extra _ time outdoors."

“Ugh, yeah, ew.” She didn’t know what else to say. What was there, really? There was no reassurance she could give him—that she loved him, that he was welcome in her house any time, that she would do whatever she could to help—that he didn’t already know. “Well...d’you wanna try my eyeliner on next? You could be a regular Gerard Way.”

Alex laughed, surprised and pleased. He loved how Maria could be so caring and giving and  _ get _ him so completely, even though they were so different. Or maybe they weren't that different, and that was the thing. "Hell yeah! Only if you let me do your make up, too."

“Of course—gotta let you get some practice in before I turn you loose on your own pretty face.”

Maria handed over the pencil and closed her eyes to let him work, though she might’ve liked to watch him concentrate up close like this. Maria adamantly did  _ not  _ have a crush on her best friend...but that didn’t mean she couldn’t think, sometimes, about what it might be like if she did, and if he had a crush on her too.

Her thoughts made the silence suddenly too loud, so she opened her mouth to break it.

“Um...did Clay leave his guitar behind when he shipped out or did he sell it? If it’s still at your house, maybe we could play together sometime.”

Alex was pulled from his own thoughts by her question. Maria genuinely didn’t need makeup to be beautiful, he was thinking. She wore it for fun, like he did, and even when Alex put crazy colors on her she still looked stunning. He always knew he loved her. Now they were teenagers, he was beginning to wonder if that meant, or  _ should  _ mean, something more. 

“Oh, yeah! I’ll see if I can bring it over!” Alex said, ‘I’ll see’ being the shorthand for ‘I’ll ask my dad, he’ll say no, but I’ll figure out a way to make it happen, anyway.’ Almost on accident Jesse Manes was growing Alex into a tactically-minded young man. “I love hearing you sing. You can open your eyes now.” 

Maria did, and blushed a little at the compliment, clearing her throat to talk. “Th-thanks. Maybe we can get Rosa to play with us too! She’s way better on guitar than I am, and maybe I can just sing.” She wished, a little bit, that Rosa was here right now instead of at Kate Long’s stupid party. 

Just a little bit, though.

“You  _ should  _ just sing. You’re terrible at guitar,” Alex teased, breaking whatever tension had formed between them. 

“Hey!” She gave him a hard poke on the forehead and then burst out into laughter when she accidentally left behind a streak of vividly green, undried nail polish.

“Ugh! Maria!” Alex complained, trying to get it off with spit, though they ended up having to use Q-tips and nail polish remover, and Alex had to fix her fingernail again. 

“Kyle called me a fag at soccer practice the other day,” Alex said out of the blue, which was the only way he knew how to open up. This had probably happened weeks ago, if Maria were to guess. “So, uh. Guess we’re not friends, anymore.” 

“He  _ what?”  _ Maria almost stood, but controlled herself, grabbing Alex’s hand instead. “Oh my God, I’m going to kick his ass.  _ Rosa’s  _ going to kick his ass—you don’t even have to tell her why if you don’t want to, she doesn’t need an excuse.” 

“I know. He’s turning into a douche. That’s more his problem than mine,” Alex said with a shrug, though Maria knew the fact that he even told her meant it mattered a lot to him. 

Seeing the look on Alex’s face, she took a different approach. “I’m so sorry, Alex. What an  _ asshole.  _ Look, we’ll find you a new pet jock. We’ll put Max in a track uniform and let him pretend.”

“Ugh, anyone but Max!” Alex laughed. “He’s not even a jock. I’d dress Michael up as a jock if I—hell, I’d take Trevor or Dakota or Frederico before…” 

Alex trailed off, blowing on Maria’s newly painted nail as he tried to ignore how easy it was for him to list dudes like that. “Kyle was just mad because Kelly Garcia kissed me and he wants to date her.” 

“Kelly Garcia  _ kissed  _ you? And you didn’t even tell me? Gosh, I know a man’s gotta have his secrets, but  _ Alex!”  _ Maria’s voice turned into a whisper-scream, excited for him even as her heart pounded so hard it was almost sickly inside her chest. “What was it like? Tell me  _ everything. _ ” And then, because it was still Alex, and Maria knew and loved him, “Unless—unless you don’t want to, of course. I get it, I promise.”

Alex just blinked at her, more than half-surprised that she cared. 

“Oh. No! I don’t care, I’m sorry I forgot to tell you.” (Well, forgot  _ and _ didn’t know enough about how he felt about it to tell, but it was easier to tell himself and others that he just hadn’t cared and forgot about it.) And then Alex made a face of distaste. “It was mostly just weird and wet and not magical at all. Ugh, I can still taste her chapstick. I told Kyle it wasn’t anything special and I guess he decided that means I’m gay.” 

Alex shrugged like this didn’t bother him, either, except it was a genuine question he had already been asking himself. 

“I mean…” Maria hesitated, hesitated so long that Alex probably knew what she was going to say long before she said it. “...Are you? Because, y’know, that would be okay. No matter what the Kyle Valentis of the world might think.” 

_ Or the Jesse Maneses,  _ she thought, feeling like she might cry.

Alex linked their fingers together so that their nails weren’t touching but they could still hold hands and grinned. “I hope not. I hate when Kyle knows anything before I do,” he said, hoping to make her smile. 

Squeezing his hand, Maria stared at the tabletop and managed a little smile after all. Then it was gone, but she didn’t look up. “I mean…I mean, you and I could try kissing. If you thought it might help you figure it out.”

Alex actually blushed, eyes going huge. “Maria, I’m not going to kiss my best friend as an experiment.” 

Maria blushed just as much, a nervous giggle escaping her. “We definitely don’t have to if you don’t want to! It doesn’t have to be an experiment, just...a kiss. That’s all.” She hoped she sounded less stupid to Alex than she did to herself. “Anyway, what’s wrong with experiments? We’re friends with  _ two  _ massive science dorks, after all.”

“So you think they should be here to watch? Take notes, register our responsiveness.” Alex suggested sarcastically, though,  _ weirdly _ , that pinged something inside him that might have been sexual interest. “Give me a definitive, scientific answer:  _ you are heterosexual, Alex Manes _ .” 

They giggled at that, and Alex shrugged. 

“Anyways, I’ve kissed you lots of times.” Of course, those had been on the cheek or hand or in their hair. They had known each other since they were three, and had always been so free with affection. Kissing Maria might turn out be very mundane, after all. Or very comfortable. “So it may not be very new. You were my first kiss in, like, kindergarten.” 

Alex’s easiness put Maria at ease as well, and she sat up, shook her hair back, and gave Alex a real smile. 

“Sure,” she teased, “We’re so experienced. It was just an idea. I fully support you getting your experiment on with other people instead. Can we at least move to the couch? I think we’re past the ‘ruining Mom’s furniture’ phase of our nails.”

Alex thought about this as they moved to the couch. He definitely loved and cared for Maria more than anyone else on earth, as much as he loved Liz and Rosa and Michael, too. So maybe kissing Maria would be a good test of his sexuality. If he didn't like it with Maria, what girl  _ would _ he like it with? 

"Maybe that's a good idea," Alex suggested, when she had moved on to talking about something else.

"Watching  _ Buffy _ ?"

"No, I mean kissing. You and me," Alex said, like he was laying out a battle plan.

“Oh! Um, okay!” Maria turned, tucking her leg under her so she could face him entirely. “How should we do this? You can close your eyes and I’ll just lay one on ya if you want.”

"I wonder if that was the problem before," Alex said, growing nervous. "Could I kiss you?"

“S-sure.” She shifted a little closer to Alex on the couch, and if her heart beat a little harder, well, it  _ was  _ her first kiss, even if it was an experimental one.

And it was Alex. Safe, kind Alex, who let her be herself and liked her for it. So even if this wasn’t how she’d imagined her first kiss, she was happy for it.

The second she closed her eyes Alex went for it before either of them could lose their nerve. Their hands clasped again to protect their fingernails, they kissed quite chastely at first, before relaxing a little into it. It was...nice, Alex thought, the safety and love of it, the comfort and intimacy. But it wasn't...special? He expected more of a spark, something cosmic? 

He jerked back as the phone rang. 

"Shit. Sorry. Do you want to get that? I'm sorry if it's my dad…again…"

“Y-yeah, I’ll get it. I’ll say you’re in the bathroom or something.” 

She slid off the couch, wondered if wiping your mouth after a kiss was, like, rude. But then, after just a brief hesitation, the phone shrilling in the background, she kissed him on the cheek before running to answer it.

“Hello, DeLuca residence,” she said.

“Good evening, Maria,” Jesse Manes said on the other end of the line, and Maria flinched, grabbing the phone cord in her fist and mouthing  _ I’m sorry  _ over at Alex.

“Good evening, sir.”

“Is my son available?”

Maria shot Alex a questioning look. She’d run interference if he wanted—she’d done it before.

Alex held out his hand in resignation. He gave no fucks about what his dad did to him, but he didn't want Maria covering for him if it got her in trouble. He took the receiver, holding it against his chest as he kissed Maria's cheek and smiled at her, before turning away and answering it. "Sir."

"Good to see you're actually there this time," Jesse said. 

"Yes, sir," Alex said, keeping his tone even. He wasn't giving his dad the satisfaction. Instead he touched his lips, thinking about the kiss, ignoring his dad as he lectured him on respect for his elders or whatever. When Jesse finally let him go, only vaguely threatening his best friend this time, Alex had already forgotten about him. "Sorry about that. How was the kiss for you? How did I do?"

“You did fine! Um, good, I mean,” Maria dissolved into giggling, then, collapsing back on the couch, covering her face, and then looking up at Alex with a silly grin. Unsurprisingly, he was...still Alex, still did that thing with his eyebrows when he thought she was being silly, still looked at her the same way. They’d kissed, but the world hadn’t shattered, nothing had changed, except that she’d been  _ kissed  _ now, and that was exciting. 

What would Rosa think? No, no, she wouldn’t tell Rosa or Liz, not yet. She blushed again just thinking about it.

“I mean, how was it for you? How did  _ I  _ do?” she asked.

"Good!" Alex said, surprising himself by also laughing. "I mean, it was—I liked it, but no more than I like, uh. Just holding your hands? Oh my God, am I gay?"

Alex laughed about it, like he'd hit the jackpot of pissing off his dad. And that might explain so much about how he felt about Kyle, and Trevor, and  _ Michael _ … He sat down heavily, feeling a little faint. 

Maria moved over to him without hesitation, wrapping her arms around his middle and burying her face in his shoulder.

“Well...you don’t have to have it all figured out right now...but no matter what, I’ll always love you, okay?”

Alex turned and squeezed her as tight as he could, finding himself suddenly emotional, tears wetting his eyelashes. "Maria, I know. I  _ know _ you'd never stop loving me. Just like I'll never not love you."

Alex pulled back, cupping her face with his hand. Her eyes were wet, too, and they giggled again, like they were trying to keep from crying. "The question is, will you still marry me if we're both still single when we're 30, even if it turns out I'm gay?"

“Um, of course, you’re not getting away from me that easily.” She poked him in the side where he was ticklish. “And Kyle Valenti? Totally not invited to our wedding. Who needs him?”

"Right? What a douche," Alex said, and leaned back on the couch, curling up with his best friend as he thought about who else he might like to try kissing. 

Mimi came home later to find them still like that, curled up against each other like puppies, and she tiptoed over to them on tired feet to spread a blanket over them and turn off the TV that played a Buffy DVD home screen on loop. 


	3. Chapter 3

Isobel really wanted to be Rosa’s friend, as much as Isobel Evans ever admitted, even to herself, that she wanted someone as a friend and not as an ally. 

She seemed cool; tough, prickly like her, and didn’t care what anyone thought of her. That was what Isobel envied. And she was her brother’s sister, now, so they should be friends, right? Allies? No, not allies. Friends. _Friends, Isobel_. 

Also Rosa was the only person at this lame party who also looked like she didn’t want to be here. Horse girls, Jesus. Psychotic. Who screamed like _that_ when they got a saddle for their birthday? 

At least once the gifts were over, someone put on music and everyone just mingled. The prospect of a boy-girl party had seemed so _dangerous_ when she got her invitation, but there hadn’t even been, like, spin the bottle yet. The worst part was going to be having to pretend that she had a great time to her stupid brothers, who were too lame to even show up to a _boring_ party.

* * *

Rosa spied Isobel Evans edging around the party in her direction and snorted to herself. Hell no. No, Rosa had plans, and they didn’t involve getting saddled with a freshie tag-along. 

So she’d just have to tap out early. She left her Sprite in a fake potted plant and left the party, heading to the bathroom, which had a small window that wasn’t too hard to shimmy out of. Rosa knew because she’d done it before, because Kate’s older brother liked to have parties that were way more interesting than this out at his family’s old barn.

The bathroom was quiet, at least, and freshman-free, which was a relief in itself. Rosa almost considered just staying here for the rest of the party, but no, she deserved to at least have a _little_ fun. 

Isobel followed Rosa to the bathroom. It was one of those flimsy bathroom locks that you could pick with a dime, and she did so, since that was definitely the sound of someone sneaking out a bathroom window. She waited until the scuffling died down and then opened the door, seeing a figure slink off into the dark, towards...the barn? _Ugh, barns! Worse than horses!_ Isobel thought, but followed, anyway. If nothing else, she was curious now. 

The music from the barn could be heard and _felt_ through the ground long before Rosa even got close, and it made her pick up speed, almost running the last few yards. She slipped inside the barn doors, no one taking notice of her, and that anonymity was as infuriating as it was exhilarating. This, here, the noise and the chaos, this was so much more _Rosa_ than a quaint high school birthday party. Here, she didn’t have to think. A girl with long, dark hair swirled past Rosa on the dance floor, her skin sticky with sweat but still soft where it brushed against Rosa’s, and Rosa took a blunt when one was passed her way and breathed deep.

Only to choke, humiliatingly, when she saw a pale, awe-struck face slipping in the door. Some asshole next to her laughed and grabbed the smoke out of her hand, but Rosa didn’t even stop to give him a piece of her mind. No, she stormed through the crowd, grabbed Isobel Evans’s arm, and jerked her back out into the cool night, and around the side of the barn.

“What the _fuck?_ ” She shouted in Isobel’s face, only caring a little bit when the girl flinched away. “What the hell were you thinking?”

Isobel looked back at her, surprised, all huge doe-eyes and vague alarm. Maybe she was kind of sheltered, but she’d never seen anyone do drugs before. Certainly not someone she knew. It made her suddenly suspect everyone around her was secretly doing drugs, and she thought about a getting into everyone’s heads to...what, _confirm_? She didn’t even know whether she cared as a moral issue more than she cared that this was something one could get in trouble for.

“I—I thought you knew where the real party was,” Isobel said, recovering slightly. 

“Bitch, you are fourteen as of like six minutes ago, what makes you think you need to be at a _real party_ ? Go back to Kate’s and awkwardly kiss someone in a closet, why don’t you? Before you get hurt, or _worse._ You know the _cops_ show up to these things and arrest people, right?”

“Well, what about you?” Isobel shot back, and folded her arms, meeting Rosa’s high horse with an attempt at a higher one. “Maybe I don’t want _you_ getting arrested and being a bad influence for my brother!” 

Oh, Rosa saw _red._ She almost had to physically stop herself from taking a swing at the younger girl; she took a step back and spread her arms with a cruel laugh.

“As if you can stop me from corrupting anyone. Clearly I already got to you, if you wanna be at a place like this! Go back to Kate’s party, Isobel. I won’t tell you again.” _I’ll just grab that cell phone your rich fucking parents got you and call them here to pick you up you snot-nosed little..._

“Okay, look, I’m sorry, don’t—” Isobel said, panicking, and trying to concentrate on Rosa to maybe just make her forget she was ever here—and then Rosa really _did_ punch her. 

“I _know_ that look,” Rosa snarled. “I don’t know what your freaky X-man trick is, but if you _ever_ try your alien voodoo on me again—”

“Ow! Hey!” Isobel hissed, and she’d never been in a fight before, not even with her brothers (she usually preferred to scream and cry for the nearest adult), but she was ready to throw down, when sirens suddenly wailed from _very_ close by, and lights from cop cars flooded the other side of the barn. Isobel screamed again. 

“Oh, _fuck,_ ” Rosa moaned, grabbed Isobel’s wrist and pulled her ruthlessly along, booking it back towards the house. Flashlight beams ran over them, making Rosa’s heart stop, but no one gave chase, too preoccupied with busting the kids still inside the barn. Rosa almost _threw_ Isobel through the bathroom window and scrambled in after her, bruising her ass on the sill as she fell in.

"Hey!" Isobel shouted.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck _fuck,_ ” she chanted, how stupid an idea it was to sneak out just now hitting her, standing in a tiny bathroom with a red-faced and furious Isobel Evans, wearing clothes that reeked of smoke.

And she hadn’t even had the chance to actually get high. Fucking _bullshit._

"Look, I thought you were cool. Guess that's my mistake for listening to Michael," Isobel snipped. And then, as they heard the cops coming into the house to check on the party inside, Isobel leaned forward to sniff her, smugly. "You definitely aren't cool. In fact, I could see you wearing a _My Little Pony_ dress."

Isobel stared at one of Kate's dresses hanging on the back of the bathroom door. 

If it was any consolation (it wasn’t), the dress turned out to not actually have My Little Ponies on it but rather regular pink ponies. That didn’t stop Rosa’s skin from crawling. But still she struggled into it, shedding her smoky clothes, and once she was done Isobel was kind enough to cover her with her own jacket—light purple, so not Rosa’s color, but it had no ponies on it, so it was better than nothing. 

The two girls slipped out of the bathroom and toward the sound of loud voices and tears. 

Several parents had arrived, among them Mr. and Mrs. Long, who were trying to calm everyone down as Kate wailed at their side about how much her stupid brother ruined everything. Rosa stuck to the edge of the room, hoping to go unnoticed until someone showed up for her. 

When Ann Evans arrived, looking very well made-up for it being the middle of the night, Isobel ran to her mom’s side. 

“Mommy, mommy, can we take Rosa home with us tonight?” she begged. “She’s scared of the cops coming, and no one’s come for her yet, pleeeease?” 

“My word, what an interesting night this is,” Ann muttered, but put on a nice enough smile for Rosa Ortecho. “Rosa, is that right? Would you like to come stay with us for the night? I’m sure you two can have a very nice sleepover at our house. There’s a big-screen TV and sodas in the basement.” 

“Oh, mommy, you’re the best,” Isobel said, dripping sweetness. 

The look Rosa shot Isobel promised a slow death despite her smile, but Rosa wasn’t stupid and knew a lifeline when she saw one.

“Thank you, Mrs. Evans,” she said through gritted teeth. She also had to endure the woman’s rambling disapproval of _those kids_ who did _drugs,_ but at least there was some peace and quiet once they got to the house and the kids were shuffled down to the basement. Max was apparently sleeping over at a different friend’s house, and Isobel kept eyeing Rosa like she was expecting another punch at any second, but at least Rosa could _breathe_ again.

She used her one phone call to let Papi know where she was; his voice was a little bemused when she said she was staying with the Evanses, but he didn’t fuss. With a huff, she hung up and turned to Isobel who was still watching her warily.

“I’m not going to hit you again, stop looking at me like that.” she snapped.

“Good, cause if you did, I’d melt your brain,” Isobel bluffed, turning up her nose. 

“Glad we got that straight.” 

“Me, too.” Isobel folded her arms, though a grin was definitely trying to escape. “I thought getting high was supposed to make you nicer.” 

“Goes to show how much you know about getting high, you baby,” Rosa said, but she threw her head back and laughed to take the sting out of her words. “Look, I’ll even put a good word for you in with the twerp—it makes his little heart grow three sizes when we get along. And now we’re partners in crime,” she teased.

“What crime? Your clothes got dirty and needed washing!” Isobel said, with utmost self-righteousness. “I’ll go get you some pajamas to wear. We can just wash your clothes and by morning they’ll be dry!” 

As she ran past to go upstairs, she pulled open an accordion door to reveal a washer and dryer, conveniently down in the basement with them. 

Rosa unstuffed her clothes from the bag she’d brought to Kate’s party and loaded the washer, only to freeze in dismay when she was presented with the array of buttons that would make it go. Couldn’t these people just be normal for once? Who needed a washing machine this fancy?

God, maybe Isobel would know. 

“Okay, how about these?” Isobel said, smiling evilly as she handed Rosa the shirt and shorts. “They were the pinkest I could find.” 

“You know, it’s a really good thing I’ve never claimed to be an honest person, because you are _really_ testing my commitment to that ‘not punching you again’ thing.”

The shorts, in fact, still had the tags on them, proof that this shit wasn’t even Isobel Evans’s style, but again—no ponies. So Isobel’s castoffs beat Kate’s any day. 

Rosa threw the pony dress and Isobel’s jacket into the washer too, a little pissed at herself for wearing so much dark clothing so she couldn’t ruin both of those with bleach without ruining her own shit too.

“Okay, what now, Princess?” she demanded, gesturing at the fucking Apollo 11’s worth of buttons on the washing machine.

“Right! Yeah!” Isobel said, with the utmost confidence, reading quickly. In a brief moment of panic, not wanting Rosa to see her hesitate, she considered going spelunking in her mother’s head for the information, but decided that would take too long. 

“Well, we probably don’t want to ruin Kate’s dress, so I’ll put it on gentle cycle,” she said, pushing the buttons as she went, but, as she would learn later, not actually selecting a gentle cycle. “But we want to get the smell out, so we’ll use extra soap to make up for it.” 

Isobel definitely remembered her mother using multiple scoops of things, so she thought three scoops of detergent was a safe amount, to really get rid of the smell.

It looked like an awful fuckin’ lot of laundry soap to Rosa, but she filed that under Isobel’s problem and shrugged. She was from outer space, an Earth washing machine should be no problem, right? Rosa snorted to herself and went and flopped on the couch.

The Evanses had clearly tricked out this basement to entertain, including a massive TV and entertainment center. Rosa snorted at that too and shook her head.

“How come Michael monopolizes my TV to watch his nerd shit when he could come here and watch it on this?”

“Hm, let’s think about that, maybe he doesn’t like hanging out at the home of the people who chose not to adopt him when he was a mute seven-year-old and now give him guilt-gifts every year for his birthday to make up for it,” Isobel said. It was surprisingly astute, and surprisingly vicious. She shrugged, like none of it bothered her, though Rosa guessed it probably did, deep down. “And he just likes you guys better.” 

Silence fell between them as they listened to the washing machine start up.

“A freaky alien mind connection would be pretty useful right now,” Rosa said, “so I could know what you were actually thinking. Or maybe not. Does that ever get annoying?”

“Does what ever get annoying?” 

“Having to feel Max and Michael and their dramatic boy feelings. Or however it works. _Not_ being alien mind connected to him, Michael’s not exactly an open book about all this, even with older sister bullying powers.”

“Hey!” Isobel cried in sudden realization, Rosa’s words from the barn finally hitting her here, away from the chaos and the sirens. _If you try your alien voodoo on me again.._ . She knew possibly _everything_ , and that was bad. “I don’t have—I don’t know what you _think_ I can do, but—well, you’re _high_ right now, first of all—” 

Rosa scoffed. “Oh, give it a rest. I’ve known about Michael for years at this point, it just makes sense that you and Max would be like him too. Believe it or not, one hit doesn’t kill _that_ many brain cells.”

“How would you tell?” Isobel asked. 

Rosa stuck her tongue out at her. 

Isobel stuck her tongue out right back. 

Rosa grinned in spite of herself. “You’re a bitch.” 

“I like you, too,” Isobel said sweetly. “Look, we might as well get used to each other. My brother is your brother and my twin is in love with your sister, so…”

“Right, and if he knows what’s good for him, he’ll stay away from her.” 

“I assure you, Max’s intentions are purely honorable. Like, depressingly honorable, I’m not sure he doesn’t want to wait for marriage to have sex. He’s shy to talk about it with Michael but Liz shared her headphones with him in like 3rd grade and he has not washed that ear since.” 

“Oh my God,” Rosa laughed, mainly because she was learning that Isobel had a mean sense of humor, one that she appreciated. Maybe Isobel was kinda pretty, too, in that Regina George kind of way. “So—is the washer _supposed_ to make that noise?”

The girls were distracted by a loud beeping from the washer that preceded an absolute _gush_ of soapy water leaking out the sides of the door and soaking the floor. Rosa leapt to her feet and rushed over, frantically slapping at the machine to make it stop.

“What the fuck, what the fuck, what do we do?” she shouted.

“Aw crap,” Isobel said, seeing the washing machine literally overflowing with suds, and wasted no time in shouting, “Moooooooom!” 

The worst part about this was that Ann Evans wasn’t even mad. She was _proud_. Oh, sure, they had to mop up soapy water from the entire floor, and they had to run a new load of wash with new, less soap-soaked clothes before they ran their clothes again, but Mrs. Evans praised them both ceaselessly. 

“Rosa, you must be a good influence on her—” she managed not to say anything strictly racist, like ‘from such a hard-working immigrant family,’ but it seemed like a near thing, “—and Isobel, sweetheart, you’re already growing into a fine, responsible young woman. It’s only right that you should learn to do your own laundry from now on.” 

She hugged Isobel, who grimaced so only Rosa could see. 

“Look at it this way,” Rosa suggested, when they were finally falling asleep in the dark on the huge, plush couches, “if you ever want to try pot you can wash the smell out yourself.” 

“Fuck you, I’m never trying pot ever,” Isobel replied, smiling into the dark.


	4. Chapter 4

Jim sat in front of the Crashdown for a long time, thinking about what he would say. How Arturo might react, in a thousand different ways. The man raising his daughter; the man who loved her like his own. Jim never meant to get in between that, knew he’d sacrificed his right to. If Arturo got angry with him wanting to be involved now, well, that was probably no more than Jim deserved. But he had to say something.

Arturo’s face when he answered the door said everything, and his voice held a hundred pound weight when he said, “Come in.”

He made coffee, and he set it on a table right beside a bottle of emergency tequila. It was the bottle he stared at when next he spoke.

“This is about Rosa, isn’t it. She was meant to be at a birthday party, but...she does not always go where she tells me she is going.”

Only Caller ID let Arturo know she really was at the Evans house tonight, a fact in itself that let him know it had been an adventurous night for his oldest.

"Right, um," Jim said, fiddling nervously with the coffee cup. He had shaved his mustache when he had had to retire as Sheriff, and his face had always felt naked without it. He never felt more naked when he was talking to Arturo Ortecho. It was fitting, and totally deserved. He'd been naked with the man's wife for a night, and was doomed to be figuratively naked in front of the man himself for the rest of his life. "Right. Michelle asked me to talk to you."

He paused in case Arturo wanted to speak, but the other man just sat across from him. 

"She had to break up an underage party at the Longs’ tonight…" he began. "And, ah. They said they saw your daughter—" Jim was emphatic here, _you're the one in control, I just want to help_ , "might have been experimenting."

Arturo sighed and closed his eyes, saying a quick prayer to God. 

“Drugs, am I right?” He said. He was angry, oh yes, he was angry, but he managed to keep his voice even around Jim Valenti. “What was it? She comes home from school sometimes smelling of marijuana. I have told her, but she does not listen. I…” _don’t know what to do,_ he almost said, but that was too much to admit here and now, to this man.

"I know. She has too much of Helena in her," Jim said, wincing even as he said it. "Michelle left it to us to take care of. She said Rosa went home with Isobel Evans…"

_"Ann Evans isn’t stupid, Jim—well, okay, she is kind of stupid, but she notices things,” Michelle had told him. “She noticed that it was unusual that Rosa even wanted to come home with Isobel. The girls aren’t friends.”_

_“That’s hardly a conviction, Michelle.”_

_“Who is the sheriff right now?” she had snapped, and he deserved that, too, but still, ouch._

_“You, mi amor,” he replied. “Give me a chance to try.”_

_“Oh, you are getting a chance. One chance, while I can still ignore circumstantial evidence. Someone needs to get through to her. I can’t keep running Helena Ortecho out of town for trying to cross county lines with a busted headlight forever.”_

That last part, of course, had made Jim smile, because Michelle was so, so protective of her town and the people in it. Including him, since he was an idiot. But this, right now, Rosa, was no laughing matter. 

“I want to help, Arturo. We...both know how things started, for Helena, and even if for Rosa it’s pot instead of alcohol, it seems...prudent, to be more careful with her than with other kids who just want to get high.” Jim squirmed. “Does she know? About me, I mean? We could tell her, if you don’t think—if you think she would see me as someone else to turn to, and not as another excuse to run away?”

Arturo’s first instinct was to say no. But his pride had no place when it came to his daughter’s life.

“I’ve never told her about you,” he said. 

“I certainly don’t blame you,” Jim said automatically. 

“I never wanted her to worry or feel like she was less my daughter, less a part of this family. But she is so smart. Observant. She is always knowing more than I think she does. More than I wish she would, for her happiness.” He took a long sip of coffee and tried to let it warm him up. “I’ve found things that make things easier for Rosa. Art and music, mostly. But I know there are things that offer a more complete escape. I fear it will not be marijuana for Rosa forever.”

His hands shook, then, so he put his mug back down on the table and folded them in front of him.

Jim winced. He’d definitely also heard Michelle ignoring as much of the graffiti as she could, but maybe it wasn’t worth it to bring that up now, either. “If you thought art school would help, I would pay for that.” 

He held up a hand when Arturo looked vaguely offended by that: “Think about it as back child support, Arturo. I am the deadbeat father, here.” 

Jim grinned—shyly, but trying to make peace.

Arturo heaved another sigh and accepted the olive branch for what it was.

“We will talk to her, then. Tomorrow. Hopefully we can find an answer that works—all three of us together. And please...give Michelle my thanks.” 

Jim chuckled. “I can tell you she is not doing it for me.” 

As the men got up and exchanged handshakes, Liz backed Michael out of the kitchen and back upstairs. 

“What the fuck! What the fuck!” she squeaked, locking her and Michael in the girls room so they could have some privacy. Liz never swore, as a rule, so she was obviously stressed. 

“I don’t know! I mean, I knew Rosa smoked, but like, is that really such a big deal?” Michael asked, shoving his fists in his pockets and hunching his shoulders to make himself small the way he still did when he was scared.

“Not that! I mean about Mr. Valenti!” Liz hissed. “I mean, yes, okay, we should be worried about the smoking, but—” 

Michael’s eyes widened for just a second, then dropped to the side, then went right back to Liz, looking every inch like he’d been caught with his hand in a cookie jar.

And Elizabeth Ortecho was smart, and she knew her brother, and she knew especially when he was lying to her. 

“What?” she shouted, bullying him against the door. “Did you know this? Michael! What do you know?”

Michael threw up his hands in surrender. “She told me a few years ago! Like, right after I came to live with you guys. I was determined to run away and live in the desert rather than be a burden or be trouble for your family, but she found me and told me how she knew I’d never be gotten rid of. Because she wasn't. I didn’t know you didn’t know.”

Liz looked on the verge of tears, betrayed by this secret. “Why didn’t she tell me? What’s going _on_? Why didn’t Papi—no wonder she drinks sometimes and—and smokes pot—” 

"Liz—"

“She said it was fine! She said she was fine!” 

“Liz!” Michael ran the couple steps to her and hugged her tightly. “Liz, look, I’m sure she just didn’t want to hurt you about your mom, okay? We’ll talk to her, we’ll see what’s going on, okay? She’s always there for us—it’s just our turn now, okay?”

“I _hate_ our mom!” she cried, leaning against Michael and crying against his chest, thinking about how Helena had made Rosa like this, how Helena and _Jim_ had— “Oh, poor Papi!” she sobbed. 

“Aw, Liz…” Michael tugged her over so they could sit on her bed and readjusted so he could still hug her, resting his cheek on the top of her head. “You heard what he said—that all he wanted was to make sure Rosa never felt like she wasn’t wanted. Your dad— _our_ dad—” Michael stumbled, still unsure how to refer to Arturo, how to give him the gratitude but also the respect he deserved, “He’s a good man, Liz. An _incredible_ man. I don’t think he regrets a second.”

“Oh, Mikey,” Liz said, sniffling, rubbing her nose off on her sleeve. Michael was right, and he did give the best hugs. “Okay.” She sniffed again, noticing there was already a wet patch on Michael’s shirt. “Okay. We talk to Rosa. We go through—” 

Liz pulled away suddenly. “We go through her stuff now! No drugs! She’s not gonna end up like mom!” 

Michael balked at that. “Go through her stuff? I dunno, Liz—” But Liz was already crossing the room to the bookshelf and grabbing a book, shaking it out on the bed. Nothing fell out, but that didn’t stop her from going to the closet next and standing on a box to look above the doorframe.

Michael hovered anxiously as they crossed the apartment and the diner, dodging Arturo as they went from hiding place to hiding place; it was slightly concerning how Liz knew right away where all Rosa’s spots were, and Michael wondered if Rosa knew that Liz knew. At the end of it, it was almost 2 am, and all they’d come up with was one joint and a baggie with three Adderall in it.

“What do we do with it?” Michael asked, staring at the contraband in Liz’s hand. “Flush it?”

“Maybe she’s actually ADHD and just didn’t tell us. But we can flush the joint.” Yesterday’s Liz might have wanted to try it, for fun, but today’s Liz was officially scared straight, if not for her own sake than for her sister’s. Here she hesitated, though. “Should we tell Papi?” 

“I kind of think he already knows. Anyway...maybe we should talk to Rosa first? We can get Maria to come too. And maybe Ms. DeLuca?” Michael thought if Rosa would talk to any adult, it would probably be Mimi. Mimi was a “if you’re going to drink, do it here where I know you’ll be safe,” kind of mom, and even if Michael wasn’t as close to her, her utter lack of judgment felt genuine and safe. He knew Rosa felt it too.

“Oh, yeah!” Liz brightened, hugging Michael. “Mama DeLuca will know what to do.” 

Then she grew serious, rubbing her eyes. “Can you keep this stuff in your room? Dios mio, I’m tired.” 

“Yeah, sure.” Michael had his hiding spots too, although he felt like maybe he needed to move them now that he’d seen Liz take Rosa’s apart. “We’ll talk to her as soon as possible, okay? It’s—as far as we know it’s just a bit of pot and booze, right? It’s gonna be okay.”

“Yeah,” Liz sighed, and hugged Michael tight, grateful that she didn’t have to deal with this issue with Rosa alone. “Thanks, Mikey. I love you.” 

“...Love you too,” Michael said, giving her another squeeze.

* * *

“Yeah, okay, alright? I get it!” Rosa shouted, backing up. “Mom’s a ho, _you’re_ a ho, I’m a bastard child but you love me anyway, and you’re real good at being nice to kids you feel guilty about. I want expensive art shit for my birthdays. Just count nine months from the day you fucked my mom and you got it!”

“Rosa Helena!” Arturo said, the kind of angry he got when she wasn’t the good, polite, stable daughter he always wanted, and got, from Liz. Hell, even Michael was a better son to him than she was a daughter. She was just a screw up, and not even his, so what did he even care? 

Rosa backed out of the empty Crashdown, opening the door. 

“The worst part about this is you think I didn’t already know! Mom got drunk and high often enough that she already told me!” she shouted, unwilling to let this go. 

“That’s exactly what we want to avoid happening with you,” Jim said, sounding so fucking reasonable about this, with his hand on her dad’s arm to calm him, that it only infuriated her more. 

“I know that, too! I’ve got her weakness inside me! Stay away from drugs, Rosa, or you’ll end up shitty like your shitty mom! Ugh, I hate both of you so much right now!” she shouted, but she immediately felt bad about that, and had no choice but to run. 

Jim and Arturo both called after her, but she didn’t so much as look over her shoulder until she was streets away and darted into an alley, leaned against a wall, and called Mimi.

* * *

It was a call Mimi expected. Not in any supernatural sense, just in the sense that she knew Rosa, and the fact that Rosa saw her as a safe person was one of the greatest prides of her life.

She’d already had the story from Liz and Michael—or, at least, as much of the story as the two of them knew from eavesdropping. They were catastrophizing, but they were just scared kids, Liz’s mind filled with images of a woman she could barely remember, Michael hearing the words “final warning” and being terrified that Rosa would be taken away.

Rosa was just a scared kid, too. So when Mimi’s phone rang she grabbed it in a heartbeat, answered it, and brought Rosa home. She sat Rosa on the couch with a mug of tea and a box of tissues, held her hand, and said, “Tell me anything, okay, baby? Anything you need to say stays between us.”

“I told Papi I hate him but I don’t,” Rosa began, knowing how true that statement was, that she could tell Mimi anything. Mimi was cool. “And I hate Jim Valenti. I hate how well they _get along_. It’s like my mom tried to pull them apart but it—only brought them together!” 

Rosa fumed, and then sighed. “I guess I don’t really hate that part. Papi needs friends.” 

Mimi made a sympathetic noise, heart aching for Arturo. “Well, they do have a few things in common,” she said, stroking Rosa’s hair out of her face and smiling. “They haven’t always understood each other so well, but I think that’s changed over the past few years. Why did you tell your papi you hate him?”

“I don’t hate him,” Rosa said again. “I just said it because he’s _annoying_. He was all, ‘Rosa, you’re a young woman, now, you have responsibilities,’ and ‘you’re old enough to know the truth now,’ and then treating me like I’m a dumb kid still. Like he won’t let me do anything. You let Maria smoke!” 

“I think it’s better to encourage honesty and moderation than it is to encourage sneaking around,” Mimi agreed. “But Rosa, do you understand why he might be worried? There was more than a little pot and some underage drinking at that party you went to. I know how mature you are, how responsible you can be when it comes to your siblings and Maria, but part of maturity is looking out for _yourself,_ too.”

“I know! And I hate that,” Rosa said. She remembered telling Mimi about getting her first period, and how much she hated that. It had felt better to just say it, actually. It sucked, but she could deal with it, and move on. But now she just grew dark and vicious. “They think I’m gonna end up like my mom. No one ever worries about this with Liz.” 

“Helena is a very singular woman. One with a lot of fire...and she doesn’t always care, or notice, who that fire ends up burning. You and Liz _both_ have that fire in you, just in different ways. Unfortunately, yours is the plight of the older sister—everyone is so afraid of messing up that sometimes they overcorrect. It can be _incredibly_ unfair.” Mimi paused, keeping up her soft petting. “A lot of things are unfair. Including, often, the law. You know there’s a universe out there somewhere where you didn’t get out of that party before the cops came.”

“ _Ugh_ ,” Rosa said, loudly, like it was a word that contained legions. “I know. Isobel Fucking Evans got me out of that one. Now I, like, owe her, or something. Isobel _Evans_!”

Mimi nodded, appreciating her hardship. 

Rosa sat and pulled her hair until Mimi stopped her with gentle hands. “Okay, so. So how do I do it? Without turning into my mom?” 

Mimi laughed, so kindly Rosa could never confuse it for mockery. “That’s a big question, baby. And, honestly, I don’t have any perfect answers. But I would say...try to understand her. How she might have felt or thought when she did the things she did. You don’t have to forgive her. No, definitely not. But if you can understand, it will help you tell which of the voices in your head is _you,_ and which is the one she gave you. Does that make sense?”

Rosa shrugged. “Not really. None of your advice makes sense right away, Mama DeLuca.” She grinned. “You know, the art helps, and _that’s_ not her. But I get in trouble for that half the time, too, so, whatever.” 

“Well, we can’t expect the Ann Evanses of the world to appreciate genius, can we? How about you try going wild and crazy on your bedroom walls instead? Or the alley beside the diner? If Arturo says no, I’ll wear him down for you.”

Rosa grinned hugely now at Mimi. “You will?” 

“Of course. But I’m betting he’ll say yes, you know.” 

And Mimi would be asking around to every artist she knew who might need an assistant, every business that might want a flyer designed, hell, any gallery that might need a receptionist. But she didn’t tell Rosa that right now, not wanting to get her hopes up.

“Okay. Will you apologize to him for me, too?” Rosa asked, knowing it was a long shot. 

“Hmm, nice try. I’ll go with you, if you’d like...but he needs to hear it from you. And you need to be the one to say it so you don’t carry that guilt inside you, okay?”

“Ugh,” Rosa said, but it didn’t have quite the layers of meaning this time. Now it was just ‘fine.’ “Okay, how about Jim? I don’t have to call him dad, do I? Ugh, is Kyle Valenti my brother? Ew, he wants to date my sister! That’s incest, isn’t it?” 

“You definitely don’t have to call Jim dad, but I’d've thought you’d be thrilled to have big sister bullying privileges over Kyle,” Mimi teased. “ _Especially_ if he wants to date Liz. And no, not incest....just a little bit weird. But in Kyle’s defense, I don’t think he knows.”

Rosa smiled evilly. Mimi was really good at pointing out the bright side of things. “Can I tell Kyle and ruin his life?” 

“Maybe you’d better leave that up to his dad, hon.”

Rosa hummed thoughtfully. “I’ll ask Jim if I can be the one to tell him.”

Rosa paused. She liked calling an adult by his first name, as a sign of disrespect. “He’ll want to be nice to me, since my existence is _literally_ his fault.” 

“Hey.” Mimi drew herself up so she could look Rosa in the face. “The part he played in bringing you into this world is one of the best things Jim Valenti has ever done, do you hear me? Maybe it wasn’t _right_ for him and Helena to betray your dad like that, but that doesn’t mean for a _single_ second _anyone_ has ever regretted it. Especially not Arturo. He needs you, baby. Liz and Michael need you; Maria and Alex need you. We love you so much, okay?”

Rosa’s smile went straight into a pouty lip as she tried not to cry. 

“Good, ‘cause I think I’m gonna need it,” Rosa said, and then she was crying loudly against Mimi’s chest, aching with gratitude that she could screw up and people would still love her. Even if her dad didn’t always understand her, he loved her more than anyone, and Mimi loved her _and_ got her, and even her ho-bag but well-meaning doofy bio-dad would be there for her before her ho-bag crack addict mom.

And now she had _three_ fucking little twerp siblings to look after, and she wished the voices in her head good fucking luck being louder than three whiny 14-year olds. 

Mimi held Rosa until she was cried out, and then, when she was ready, gathered her things to bring her home. Maria, sweet thing that she was, had stayed in her room and not listened in the whole time Rosa was here, but she came out to give her a hug of her own before they left.

When they were back in front of the Crashdown,

“I’m okay, Mimi,” Rosa said, straightening her shoulders. “Thanks. Thanks for everything. Tell Maria thanks for letting me borrow you.” 

With another smile Rosa marched back into the Crashdown alone. It was dark and she had to use her key, but it felt good to be home, instead of stifling. There was a part of her that annoyed her at the back of her mind, telling her she’d be calmer if she just smoked one joint or just had one shot before she went to talk to her dad, and he probably would pretend he didn’t notice, just this once. 

She found him in the tiny office, doing paperwork. “Hey, Papi. Sorry I, uh. I’m home?” 

At the sound of her voice, Arturo leapt to his feet, and for a long moment he just stared at his daughter—but then all the sternness cracked from his face and fell away, and his features crumpled with emotion, and he tugged Rosa into a tight hug.

“I was so worried, Rosa, please,” he said in Spanish, “I’m so glad you’re home, I—I am sorry too, for never telling you, for surprising you with it now, but I will _always_ love you. Always. Oh, I need to call Jim—he went out to find you—”

“Papi, it’s okay. He slept with your wife, I think we can let him sweat it for a bit,” Rosa replied back in her father’s native tongue. She didn’t speak Spanish enough with him, she thought, and hugged him tighter. “It’s okay, Papi. I knew. I didn’t know it was him, but, mom already told me. I knew you loved me. I never doubted it.” Now she was crying again. “I’m sorry I said I hated you. I don’t really.” 

“I know,” Arturo said, “Oh, my daughter, I know.” But every syllable his voice said he’d needed to hear it anyway. “These things are hard for all of us, but that’s why we are a family—because we will always love each other anyway. If I’m strict, it’s only because I want the rest of your life to be easier, but if I’ve been too hard—I will _try._ I will try to understand. We must both try to understand one another.”

Rosa patted his shoulders, not even bothering to wipe her tears away anymore. She thought she cried it all out, but apparently not. Instead, she reached up to thumb his away. She realized with sudden eerie clarity that she was the woman of the house. Not just a ‘young woman’ with dumb adult responsibilities like periods and taxes but _people_ who needed her. Her dad needed her, too. He really didn’t have anyone. Well, Mimi, and Jim, maybe, and Arturo was probably too proud to accept help from anyone who wasn’t family. So that was her. “You’re just the right amount of strict, Papi. But...maybe you could let me paint on the side of the building in the alley?” 

Arturo let out a watery laugh and patted her cheek. “You know how I love your artwork, mija. You can paint on anything...anything _we_ own, sí? No more graffiti.”

“Yes!” Rosa cried, jumping up and kissing his cheek. “Also, I think we should invite Jim to church next Sunday. I think he _needs_ it.” 

With that, Rosa skipped away upstairs. 

Upstairs, however, Liz was not in their room. She and Michael were not at the little table in the hall for homework or in the sitting room with the TV. But Rosa definitely heard... _silence_ , the sound of children being quiet, coming from Michael’s closet. 

She opened without knocking, like all good big sisters do.

Michael and Liz were huddled together on the bed and jumped when the door opened, staring at her with puppy dog eyes that were identical no matter how different the two of them looked.

“We’re so sorry—”

“We were just worried—”

“Please don’t be mad—”

“I’ll do your chores for a week—”

The two of them babbled over each other until all Rosa could do was laugh at them, which stemmed the tide.

“Rosa?” Liz asked in a tiny voice.

“You found my stash, didn’t you?” Rosa demanded. "You little shits." 

Michael and Liz, the little partners in crime (anti-crime?), looked at each other, and then nodded. 

“Did you tell dad?” she pressed. 

“N-no, we figured—we took it to Mama DeLuca,” Liz said.

“Worried Dad would totally freak,” Michael said, and the way he slipped and called Arturo ‘Dad,’ more than anything, warmed Rosa’s heart. If Michael could figure out his place here, so could she. 

“Are you guys going to be total squares and dog my every stop like obnoxious little brats? I already have to be half-siblings with _Kyle Valenti._ I’m under a lot of stress,” Rosa said, in that way of speaking she had that people who didn’t know her well couldn’t tell if she was joking or not. 

“Kyle doesn’t get to be your brother, I already called dibs,” Michael said.

Liz straightened her shoulders in a way that made her almost as tall as Rosa.

“If being a _total square_ is what it takes, then yeah, I’ll do it,” Liz said. “I-I _know_ a little pot and booze aren’t _that_ big a deal, but Rosa…” Her lip wobbled, but she didn’t cry. Her eyes stayed perfectly clear.

Rosa rolled her eyes and tugged her sister into a hug. “Don’t have a cow. I’m not gonna be like mom. If I do, then you’re allowed to give me that look.” 

Then she pulled Michael into a hug, too, with her other arm. “We are going to have _so_ much fun ruining Kyle Valenti’s life, bro.” 

“Be nice to him, you guys!” Liz whined, but what did she know?

The three of them sat there on Michael’s skinny bed for a long time, until Liz started nodding off. Michael offered his bed to her, but that just made both sisters shove him off onto the ground for being stupid, which was the real punishment as he got trapped in the very narrow space and couldn’t get up until they vacated the bed and he could push it out.

And later, Liz and Rosa lay in their dark room, both staring at the ceiling, and Liz spoke in the darkness.

“I love you, Rosa. I love you more than anyone else in the world.”

“I love you, too, Liz,” Rosa replied. “And I’m gonna be okay. But, uh. Thanks for worrying about me.” 

And Liz whispered back, “Any time.”

* * *

“What do you want, Max?” Michael asked, rubbing his face. “I had a really long couple days dealing with my sister…” 

“Rosa Ortecho is exactly what I want to talk about,” Max demanded, eyes blazing with a kind of holy fire as he dragged Michael into the most secluded back booth the Crashdown had to offer.. 

Isobel was with him, looking a little bit embarrassed by Max’s outburst but not enough to stop him. Michael would fight back, wouldn’t he? 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Michael bristled at the implication.

“Isobel said Rosa _knows_ about us, Michael,” Max said, voice going low and cold. “How did that happen? You know it’s not safe for our secret to get out! Not to anyone! Not even our _parents_ know, Michael.” 

“ _You’re_ the ones who made that rule, not me,” Michael snapped back, shoulders hunching. “And adults might not understand, but Rosa’s cool. I had to tell her—she saw my powers by accident back when I couldn’t control them at all, I couldn’t just let her think she was crazy.”

“You couldn’t have covered?” Max demanded, but before Michael could answer or Max could go on Isobel stopped him. 

“Hey, look, it’s too late now, having a cow about it will only make _your_ powers go haywire,” she said, poking Max in the chest. 

For all his bluster, Max caved to her immediately, backing down from standing, intimidating, over Michael. “I just—”

“I checked out her mindscape, she’s fine,” Isobel said, poking him again, clearly her own bullying tactic. “Loves that baby brother as much as her blood relative, and we get a pass by proxy. If you’re going to destroy the social in I have with a sophomore my freshman year, I will never forgive you, Max.” 

Max glowered back and forth between them. “It’s _dangerous_.” 

“I _know,_ Max. The dissection room at the Emporium makes me puke too, okay?” Michael said. “But Rosa found out by accident and she’s known for three years now and nothing bad has happened. She’s _family._ And I know you’ve wanted to tell Liz—we’ve all felt it in the link, right? We can’t keep this kind of secret from the people we love forever.”

Isobel rolled her eyes. “Tell all the Ortechos at that point, why don’t you? Us aliens have gotta stick together, right?” 

Max pinched his brow. “That’s racist, Isobel.” 

“Oh, whatever.” 

The look Max gave Michael next was now that dreaded parental look of _not mad, but disappointed_. “Get better at lying, for next time.” He spoke to Isobel at the same time when he said, solemnly and sternly, “No one else can know.” 

“I’ll be careful,” Michael promised, just glad the spotlight had been taken off Rosa.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> jesse makes an appearance in this chapter, being his usual self :/ i find it difficult to know where to draw the line between "implied/referenced child abuse" and "child abuse" tags, so we've added both, and reader discretion is advised. we try to keep to a philosophy of being no more graphic than the show itself would be, but we're writing a different time in these characters' lives, and some hazards that can be implied in the future of RNM are more front and center in their lives in 2004. please reach out with any questions or concerns to hal at haloud.tumblr.com or haloud#2931 on discord. <3

Michael twisted the phone cord around his finger and pressed himself tighter into the corner. He wasn’t doing anything  _ wrong... _ he just didn’t want to be interrupted by Liz or Rosa, because they’d want to talk to Alex too, and it was hard enough to get a hold of him as it was.

And he  _ needed  _ to talk to Alex, to a friend who made everything as easy as breathing when it felt like family was sitting on his chest. Not that he loved them any less, but Max was still mad at him, or disappointed, and Isobel was worried but not taking sides. He could feel them all the time in the back of his mind, their worry and their love, and it both helped and it didn’t.

But talking to Alex would fix everything, if only for a little bit. They had a system. Michael would call him, let it ring once, and hang up; then he’d wait by the phone for Alex to find some privacy and call back. The day Alex got a cell phone was a magical one for all his friends, even if the calls had to be kept kind of short since his dad kept a close eye on his minutes. At least with the number being the Ortecho family phone, there was plausible deniability—he could be talking to any one of the kids, about homework or whatever.

It was weird. Michael didn’t know, exactly, why it was so important that Jesse Manes didn’t know how close he and Alex had grown. Of course, Jesse was still terrifying, and he’d never given Michael any reason to doubt Jim’s warnings, but it was...more than that. It just was.

The phone rang, and Michael snatched it up, breathing into the receiver, “Ortecho house, Michael speaking.”

“Cute,” Alex said, intending it to sound derisive, but he was finding it harder and harder these days to be properly mean or teasing to Michael. “I love the way you answer the phone. How was your day? How was work? Were you at the ranch or the Crashdown today?”

Alex made it a point to ask this periodically, though he knew for a fact that Michael had been working out at Sanders’s junk yard today—he didn’t want to give away the fact that he had Michael’s weekly schedule memorized like some sort of psycho who kept tabs on all his friends. 

“Look, one time I picked up assuming it was you and it was actually a delivery guy. I’m traumatized, okay?” Michael grinned. He often grinned when he was talking to Alex. “Anyway, it’s option C: old man Sanders is finally letting me work on real engines, so I spent most of the day at the junkyard. Maybe eventually he’ll even pay me for it.”

“He’s not paying you?” Alex narrowed his eyes even though Michael couldn’t see his face. “I love your soft spot for, like, the town creep, Michael, but you shouldn’t be out there if you’re not getting paid. This isn’t like an internship.” 

“Nah, but people pay for lessons and stuff, right? He’s not charging me, either, and he’s taught me a lot and lets me mess around. There’s this beat up old truck he keeps letting me practice on, and I think he’s going to let me have it if I can fix it.”

The excitement was palpable in Michael’s voice; he’d had dreams, even, of that battered light blue truck. The idea of having a car all his own instead of one he had to share with two sisters was even better than a dream come true.

“Really? What kind of truck?” Alex loved listening to the excitement in Michael’s voice. He hadn’t seen him all summer, practically, and he missed him. He wanted him to keep talking because, at least while Michael was speaking, Alex wasn’t trapped at home with his stupid dad. 

“It’s a ‘69 Chevy C10—pretty beat up, but I can make it run, I  _ know  _ I can.” Michael grinned into thin air, wishing Alex was here with him to give him that look, that little smile that said he thought Michael was a little silly but was happy he was happy. “Anyway...what have you been up to?” 

_ I miss you,  _ Michael wanted to say, but he wasn’t sure if that would be weird, or if Rosa was around the corner listening and would tease him mercilessly.

“Not much. Doing a lot of reading, beat a few video games. We’re going survival camping again this weekend—joy—so I won’t be able to call. But maybe I can convince dad to eat at the Crashdown when we get back on Sunday? Could you be working? Or better yet, sit and eat with us?” 

“Oh! Hold on just a second, I’ll be right back!” 

Michael put the receiver aside and bolted to his bedroom, snatching the star chart from his little bookshelf and racing back. All summer, from the first time Alex had to cancel plans for a sudden camping trip, they’d played this game—Michael would give him something to find in the night sky, and Alex would report back what he found.

“Okay, I’ve got the book. It might be pretty faint, but did you know that just southwest of Wasat in Gemini there’s a nebula called the  _ clown  _ nebula? You should be able to pick it out; it’s the one that looks like Flint’s face.”

“HA,” Alex said, then looked around, making sure he wasn’t being too loud. This was the only part of camping Alex loved, so he dutifully committed the instructions to memory, since he couldn’t trust his dad to allow him to have any extra supplies with him: “Southwest of Wasat Gemini. I think I remember that one. Clown Nebula. Does it really look like a clown, Michael?” 

Michael shrugged. “Eh, it mostly looks like a glowing smudge, like most nebulas do without a telescope. We’ll get one and take a look at it one day and know for sure, yeah?” He tucked himself back against the wall, wishing he was having this conversation in person, that he and Alex were shoulder to shoulder in the little phone alcove, looking at the star chart together.

God, he hated Jesse Manes.

“H-hey, Alex?”  _ I miss you.  _ He almost said it again, but just chewed on his lip and said instead, “I promise I’ll be at the Crashdown on Sunday, okay? I’ll probably go to church with the family in the morning, but after that. I’ll work a double shift if I have to.”

“Yeah? Great!” Alex said, heartened by this. “I’ll try to get on Dad’s good side so he’ll say yes, but don’t hate me if he wants to get Subway and go home.”

“Hey, I could never hate you. Mr. Ortecho, on the other hand...I mean,  _ Subway?  _ I won’t rat you out if the worst does come to pass, though.”

"Heh. Fair." Alex kicked the ground outside—he had to talk to Michael outside, the only way he’d get any privacy—and promptly stopped kicking. If he was going to not piss his dad off he should probably not destroy his shoes before then. “Michael? I can’t wait for school to start. Is that psychotic? I don’t even  _ like  _ school.” 

“It’s not. Not at all. I’m ready too. I don’t even care if high school is weird—Rosa keeps trying to scare me and Liz but it’s whatever—I’m so ready. Even if we don’t have any classes together, I’ll get to see you at lunch and stuff.”

Was that giving too much away? Was it weird that Michael just wanted to see Alex, even though everyone had been pretty busy and couldn’t hang out much this summer? He didn’t know, just that he knew he could drop by Maria’s house and have a good chance of finding her; that he could show up at the Evanses’ door and ask for Max and Isobel and they’d be able to at least say hi. But Alex...he missed Alex so keenly because he knew it wasn’t that simple. Every time he hung up the phone it felt like he might not even get to talk to him next time.

He needed school to start. Soon.

“Not just lunch! We have Biology and English together, too, remember,” Alex said, smiling at that, and then wincing, because he was being creepy about schedules, again. 

“Oh, really? Sweet! I totally forgot—now I’m really ready.”

Alex swallowed and nodded, glad that Michael was excited, too. “Yeah. It’ll be good to have classes together. I...I’ve got something to tell you. When I see you again. Nothing bad! Just something that I don’t want to share over the phone.  _ Hopefully  _ sometime before school starts!” 

Michael clenched the phone cord in his fist, anxiety spiking, but he kept his voice steady. “Um, okay! You can tell me anything. And yeah, before school starts would be good. Really good. I m—”

Oh, this was just ridiculous.

“I miss you,” Michael almost whispered, blushing as he said it. Suddenly it was good that Alex wasn’t here to witness it.

“ _ Jesus fucking Christ _ , I miss you, too,” Alex replied with a laugh, and listening to Michael giggle into the receiver on the other end practically made his day, like the sound gave him enough joy to carry him through survival camping. “I wish our dads were the send-us-to-summer-camp dads, and we could go to the same one. Like Maria goes to music camp every year, I’m just beyond jealous. Don’t Max and Isobel do camp, too?” 

“Iz put her foot down this year, but yeah. Max goes on this writing camp thing and always gets in trouble for wandering off to stick his nose in his journal instead of doing the planned activities. Liz is actually going to a Biology Camp thing this year; she saved up all her money for it. I don’t know what kind of camp I’d do...but as long as you were there, I don’t think it would matter.”

And now he was blushing again. Unbidden, an image of Alex grinning in a sunny field somewhere, or doing other camp things, like swimming in a lake, and Michael was there too—the image popped into Michael’s head, and he felt a spike of familiar heat at the thought. What the hell?

Nope, not thinking about it. Not thinking about that. Thinking about something else right now, out in the open where his family could walk by.

Being fourteen was rough.

“Same,” Alex said. “We could do a week at music camp and a week at astronaut camp. You know NASA does one, in like, Florida or somewhere miserably hot in the summer—” He had maybe looked this up on the internet already, when he thought he might be able to convince his dad because NASA was  _ like  _ the military, “—but it would be fun to be there with you.”

It would be everything he ever wanted, Alex thought to himself, not just ‘fun.’ He wanted to get Michael alone and talk to him about this kissing thing in some setting where they’d have some privacy but it wouldn’t freak him out. That’s why Alex thought about Space Camp, where Michael would be most relaxed and comfortable and happy and excited. Ever since he had kissed Maria, Alex thought about trying to kiss boys, or, a boy, and the only boy he could really think about kissing where he thought it might actually work was Michael, and even then, he had to play it carefully in all the scenarios in his head, or risk messing everything up.

That made him nervous, and Alex cleared his throat. “Um, so how’s Rosa doing? And Liz? You should tell them to be there on Sunday, if they’re free. I hope I’m not getting everyone’s hopes up and then my dad says no…” 

“Dude, we  _ get  _ it. No one blames you for your dad being, like, a fascist. They’re doing good. Liz is already studying; we’re going to be in Bio together, so that’s going to be fun. Max is there too, so hopefully he’ll stop us from either taking over the world or killing each other. Rosa’s almost finished with her alley mural—even if your dad doesn’t let you come eat here, you should stop by and take a look at it.”

“Oh, great! I definitely will,” Alex laughed, relieved that Rosa was settling down. He had been worried after he heard what happened, or what almost happened, and he’d only seen her once since then. “Hey, is Max still crazy about Liz? I know it’s more fun to make his life harder but we could try to make them be lab partners so you and I can work together? I definitely want you or Liz, I’m gonna need someone to carry me through—”

“ALEX!” 

Alex physically flinched, and it was loud enough on the other line that Michael did, too. “Shit, I have to go. Southwest of Wasat Gemini. See you Sunday, hopefully.” 

“Okay. But even if you don’t, I’ll see you soon, okay? A-at school, or somewhere…” Michael said desperately, but the sound through the phone was already muffled like Alex had shoved it in his pocket or something, so he probably didn’t even hear.

And then the line was silent.

Michael put down the receiver, thunked his head against the wall and slid down a couple inches. Fuck Jesse Manes. Michael already felt lonelier for the lack of Alex in his life. Getting his hopes up for Sunday would just be harder for both of them.

He thunked his head on the wall again and sighed a huge, full-body sigh.

“Dude, could you stop headbutting the wall? And are you finally off the phone?” Rosa delivered a sharp kick to his foot, and Michael jumped, glaring at her.

“You spend way more time on the phone than I do, get off my back.”

“Yeah, that’s ‘cause I’m the oldest. Talk to your many many girlfriends on your own time.”

“This is my own—”

“Nope. Now get out of my way.”

Michael pushed himself off the wall and stormed to his bedroom, stopping short of slamming the door out of respect for Arturo. Collapsing on his bed, he clutched the star chart to his chest and sighed at the ceiling.

Only a few more weeks until school. Things would be better, then. More normal. He and Alex could resume their friendship.

Because Michael couldn’t make sense of these feelings any other way, except that he missed his friend, that maybe Alex was his  _ best  _ friend, that as the summer went on he’d been unable to get him out of his head.

But when they were together again...everything would go back to normal.

…

Alex was an exemplary little soldier all weekend, giving everything his all and not complaining or fighting, though the worst part was knowing that his best behavior didn’t always result in a reward. 

The Clown Nebula was the only thing that gave him any kind of hope, made his heart pound and clench as Alex thought about Michael. Here in the dark he even let himself think about kissing Michael, but he kept the fantasy strictly objective, purely above the waist. 

His dreams had other plans, but he couldn’t help what his subconscious did. 

On Sunday morning, as Alex was on KP duty, his dad actually told him he was proud of him, in that weird way of sounding almost like a human being that made Alex hate him even more than usual. 

“Any chance I can pick where we eat when we roll into town?” Alex asked, trying to also sound like a human being who was convinced by this android’s father impersonation. “I would kill for a burger right now.” 

“McDonald’s?” 

“ _ Dad _ . A real burger. With green chile.” 

Jesse Manes smiled, and that smile almost made Alex want to back down, want to keep his father from going anywhere near Michael and his family. “Okay. We’re going spear-fishing in the stream. The one who catches the most fish gets to pick.” 

Alex glanced at the other sleeping bags. Flint and Gregory were still sleeping. 

“Will it count if I get started now?” Alex asked. 

Jesse smiled, oddly proud. “If you’re not cheating, you’re not trying.” 

…

Michael wiped down his millionth table that day, lingering over it until he could see his face in the table top. It was one of his least favorite jobs, short of anything that involved having to actually  _ talk  _ to customers, but today it kept him close to the windows, so it was a necessary evil.

Maybe Alex would come. Maybe he wouldn’t. But all Michael’s attempts at not getting his hopes up never stood a chance, so he was the best busboy the Crashdown had ever seen, quick and thorough when need be so he could get back to lingering over tables and watching the parking lot like a pining puppy, even as Rosa and Liz and the other servers gave him weird looks.

His week had been looking up ever since that phone call. Tensions eased between him, Isobel, and Max, as Isobel talked Max down at home and as the mental link kept their emotional feedback clean and honest. For once, Michael had faith things would be okay, eventually.

There were several families that mostly drove military vehicles in Roswell, but the most fortified (and ostentatious) belonged to Jesse Manes. When it pulled up Michael nearly jumped out of his skin, scurrying over to his sisters to whisper furiously to them  _ Alex is here!  _ And then to the kitchen to tell Arturo he’d be taking his break in a bit.

Alex all but ran into the Crashdown, sore and sweaty and so exhausted but happy enough to fly just from seeing his friends. The Ortecho sisters ran to him straight away, shouting his name and pulling him into a tight three-way hug, a hug that only grew when Michael ran into them too, throwing one arm around both Liz and Alex, grinning so wide his face hurt.

They jumped and screamed their way through the Crashdown as Jesse, Gregory and Flint made their way to their usual booth. Arturo had to yell at them to settle down, though most of the other patrons laughed and smiled along with them. 

Michael’s heart pounded with excitement at seeing Alex, at the smile on his face and the way it crinkled the corners of his eyes, at how tan he was from a summer spent camping, at how tall he’d gotten, the same height as Michael now where Michael had always had a few inches on him. He looked so good. Michael wanted to hug him one on one, where it was quiet and they could talk for real, like they did when they were little kids.

"What a bunch of girls," Flint muttered, shattering Michael’s bubble of joy. 

Rosa stuck her hands on her hips, hating Flint on principle for being a shitty older brother (being a good older sibling was important to Rosa and was how she judged most people). 

"What's  _ wrong  _ with being a girl,  _ cabrón _ ?” She plastered on a fake smile for Flint’s dad, though she clearly didn’t mind him seeing her swearing at his son. “Can I take your drink order, mister sergeant?"

"Alex, why don't you sit down?" Jesse asked pleasantly, but in a tone Alex recognized as an order not a suggestion. 

"Yes, sir," Alex said, glancing sadly at his friends. "Can I sit at the bar with my friends?"

“Maybe next time, after you prove to me you can be around them in public without embarrassing yourself.”

Cold as ice, Jesse turned on his heel and strode over to his booth, clearly expecting his children to fall in line behind him, and Flint and Gregory did. Rosa, Liz, and Michael all stared at Alex with sadness and apology in their faces, Liz whispering her  _ sorry, Alex  _ out loud as well, but Alex clamped down on his own expression, not allowing even a flicker of sadness through, even when Michael tried to hold on to his jacket sleeve as he pulled away.

“God damn it,” Michael said when Alex was gone, voice cracking the way fourteen year olds’ often do, but also because his throat was stuffed full of ugly emotion, guilt and regret and grief. Way too much. This was stupid. Michael felt stupid.

So he ran away, abandoning Rosa to take their orders, and spent the rest of his break curled up in a miserable ball on the stairs to the Ortechos’ living space.

When he went back to work, dragging his feet, Alex was still there, looking small and still as a statue shoved into a booth beside Flint.

Michael missed him. He missed him so bad his chest  _ ached.  _ He didn’t even know he could miss him this much until he was right here and Michael couldn’t even say a word, or ask him if he found the clown nebula, or tell him it would be okay.

Rosa elbowed him. “There you are. Clock back in and go fill up Alex’s water. He’s been drinking like a horse, I think he’s gonna try an escape to the bathroom at some point. If you ask Liz nice she might even let you bring them their shakes. He can’t stop  _ us  _ from going over  _ there _ .” 

“Shakes might be a bad idea,” Michael muttered mutinously. He’d have to refrain from throwing them directly into Jesse’s stupid face and getting them all alien murdered probably.

Still, he grabbed the pitcher of water and went over to the Manes table to top off all their drinks, and even lingered afterward, not wanting to walk away, not until Alex at least  _ looked _ at him.

“Can I get you guys anything else?”

And Alex looked up at him and smiled, because just seeing his friends was giving him life, was going to have to sustain him for the last few weeks until school started. “I’m good.  _ Thank you _ .” 

“It’s Michael, isn’t it?” Jesse asked, turning those cold blue eyes on Michael, though his tone was ostensibly pleasant. “How is it you’re related to the Ortechos, again?” 

“Adopted,” Michael said tensely, staring straight at him, refusing to be intimidated. 

“Ah, good to hear Arturo got his immigration papers in finally,” Jesse said with a smile that was all malice. “Since you need to be a citizen to legally adopt anyone.” 

“OKAY I GOT SHAKES HERE,” Liz said, shoving past Michael. “You said extra cherries right, Flint?” 

“I said  _ no  _ cherries…” 

Michael was locked in a staring match with Jesse, heart pounding sickly at the thought that he might have just gotten Mr. Ortecho in trouble. Oh God, he’d never ever forgive himself. What if someone found out Michael wasn't legally adopted and took him away from the Ortechos? What if someone took Arturo away from  _ them _ ?

Jesse broke eye contact first. Why wouldn’t he? He had nothing to lose from backing down from a confrontation with a fourteen year old.

Michael ran away to puke in the bathroom.

Alex waited as long as he humanly could, but not before Gregory was done eating, to ask to use the restroom, which Jesse agreed to, though with an air of someone who knew exactly what Alex was up to and that he’d pay for it later. 

_ Fine _ , Alex thought, as he made his way to the two-stall bathroom. He immediately heard the sound of someone puking, and recognized Michael’s sneakers and the door half-open. 

“Michael! Jesus, Michael, are you okay?” he demanded, pushing the door all the way open and gripping Michael’s shoulders.

Michael wiped his mouth on a wad of toilet paper. He was shaking, maybe from puking, maybe from something else, and he had tears running down his face. 

“What your dad said about Mr. Ortecho needing to be a citizen to adopt,” Michael blubbered, “What if he tells someone and Mr. Ortecho gets in trouble and they take him away? It’s a-all my f-fault.”

“Hey, hey, hey, Michael,” Alex said, tugging Michael into a hug. It wasn’t the hug he had pictured giving Michael, on the floor of a bathroom with Michael smelling like barf and him smelling like he’d been bathing in a stream all weekend, but it was the best hug he’d had in a while. “It’s okay, you’re okay. You didn’t do anything wrong. If my dad wanted to find that out he would have, anyway. He’s just—he’s just trying to bully you, he won’t do anything. If he does, we’ll talk to Jim. Jim Valenti knows how to stand up to him.”

Alex tried to sound more confident in that than he actually was.

Michael let out one more sob but then he quieted, slowly bringing his arms up around Alex’s back to squeeze him tightly, infinitely soothed by the solid comfort of another body. 

They sat there for a really long time. Michael could feel Alex’s ear jammed awkwardly against his cheek. It was hot, like Alex was blushing.

“A-are you gonna be okay?” Michael whispered eventually.

“Are  _ you  _ gonna be okay?” Alex demanded right back, and they let that go at that. Alex squeezed Michael once more and helped him to his feet, and giggled. “I mean, okay, I really did come here because I need to pee. But don’t go! I’ll be right out!” 

Michael rinsed his mouth out about a hundred times in the sink while he waited for Alex, and he couldn’t help but check the door in the mirror as many times, like Jesse would be lurking there waiting to take Alex away again.

Alex washed his hands, flicked water at Michael’s face, and then grabbed him by the shoulders and smiled at him. “That’s better. Now I’m the only one who smells like a toilet, and I’ve been in the woods for three days. Hey, I found that nebula. Watched it every night til I fell asleep.” 

Michael’s heart gave a massive thump at that, and, hell, his knees almost wobbled. Thinking about Alex looking at the night sky and looking at the stars (and maybe thinking of him…)?

“Good,” he breathed, then coughed and composed himself. “So did it really look like Flint? Science needs to know.”

“Nah, you’d need a telescope to find out,” Alex said with a smile. “Okay, I better get going before…” 

He didn’t need to finish that sentence, but opened up a hard sunglasses case to dump something out and hand it to Michael. “I found this neat flower, I thought one of you science nerds might like it, you or Liz. Gotta go. I’ll call you when I can. It was good to see you, Michael. Tell Liz and Rosa I love them once we’re out of earshot.”

“Alex—” Michael called after him, but he didn’t even get to  _ what did you want to tell me  _ before Alex was back out in the diner. And Alex didn’t look back at him, which was for the best.

Michael followed at a walk and hovered around the corner to watch the Maneses leave, relieved that Alex didn’t seem to be in trouble, as he got back before Gregory was done—since he must be the slowest eater in the world or something. 

Jesse showed no reaction as Flint refused to get up or move over to let Alex sit back down, leaving Alex standing beside the table with his fists clenched. Greg was wolfing down the last of his probably-cold food now, and the second he was done Jesse called for the check. 

And then they were gone, the whole Manes brood leaving the restaurant in single file. The whole place seemed louder and brighter with Jesse Manes’s oppressive presence gone, with Rosa complaining about white people’s tipping habits loudly in Spanish—her way of working through her anger at herself for letting Flint rile her up like that and probably ruining Alex’s chances of hanging out with them for the rest of the summer. Michael sighed miserably and tried to get back to work, but Arturo took one look at him and sent him upstairs to rest. 

He had to do something with Alex’s flower, though. He should share it, give it to Liz like Alex suggested since she was the one with a passion for all kinds of biology, but...he didn’t want to. He wanted to keep it, hoard it for his own, no matter how quickly it died. So he put it in a glass of water and took it to his bedroom and watched it float there, tiny red petals vivid against everything else Michael owned.


	6. Chapter 6

Alex didn’t call. Not that night, and not all the next week, and his friends put their heads together and concluded he must have had his phone taken away as punishment or encouragement to find better friends or something. The summer began to feel interminable, even with all the time Michael spent working. Liz and Rosa and Maria tried to put together excuses for calling the Manes’ landline to talk to him or hang out with him, but with the 4th of July long since passed, there wasn’t really much else that was edifying enough they could suggest as a hangout. 

Until finally, one day, a week before school started, Maria got a call, in the middle of the day, while she and Rosa were just hanging out. 

“Hey.” 

“Alex?! Is that you?” Maria yelped. “Oh my God, I’m sorry, that was loud. Do we need to be quiet? Is your dad listening?” 

“Did you get arrested for killing your dad and she’s your one phone call?” Rosa called. “I’m hurt, Manes!” 

“You guys are obnoxious,” Alex laughed. “But I’m glad you’re both there. You should come see me at my new job sometime. I’m calling from there right now.” 

Maria gasped. “Alex, you got it! You’re at the Alien Emporium?”

“Oh, my God, no, I can’t be seen there!” Rosa complained. “We’ll just have to wait til school starts to see you, I guess, Al!” 

“Ignore her,” Maria said. 

“Who even starts a summer job the week before school starts?”

“You know my dad,” Alex said, and they could hear him roll his eyes through the phone. “Took me that long to just convince him. Mr. Green will let me keep the job over the school year. Like Thursdays and Fridays after school.” 

“Oh, nooo, you’ll miss all the football games and pep rallies,” Rosa said sarcastically. “The most important parts of high school!” 

“Oh,  _ nooo _ ,” Alex responded in kind. 

“Liz and Michael are going to be thrilled. They’ll come visit you all the time. We’ll come visit you now! We’ll start walking.” 

“Maria! Babe! It’s like one hundred degrees out there!”

“Means it’s only ninety in the shade,” Maria said. “Let’s go.” 

…

God, it felt good to see Alex again some place where it didn’t feel like they all had a gun to their heads. The UFO Emporium was gloriously anonymous, actually—the tourists didn’t care if there were two extra bodies in Alex’s little ticket booth as long as he got them through the door quickly. The conversation between Alex, Maria, and Rosa fell so easily back into place after almost an entire summer apart.

Alex relaxed in a way he hadn’t felt he could all summer around them. He was home. He just needed Liz and Michael and everything would be right. 

They chatted for most of Alex’s shift, until the sun started to set and Mama DeLuca came and picked Maria up for dinner. Maria turned to look back to them before getting in the car, waving and grinning wide and beautiful in a way that Rosa couldn’t look at straight on but also needed to stare at until she could paint it in her sleep.

“Hey, Alex,” she said into the silence once Mama DeLuca’s car disappeared around the corner.

Alex was cool, right? He’d be cool.

“Yeah?” Alex asked. “Hey, you want to flip the sign for me and pull the shade? What’s up?” 

Rosa did as she was asked then leaned back against the wall, arms crossed in front of her. "What if like, I kissed a girl and I liked it? Would you be weirded out by me?"

“W-wait, really? Rosa!” Alex gaped at her for a second while she glared back, then recovered himself. “I mean. What if I, like, kissed a girl and thought it was just okay? Would  _ you  _ be weirded out by  _ me? _ ”

Rosa arched one perfectly manicured eyebrow even higher at Alex and folded her arms. “No, I’d say that sounded about right for you,” she told him, as though trying to sound derisive but was actually grudgingly proud of him. “Also Maria told me already. Was that okay?” 

Alex nodded though he couldn’t look directly at Rosa, chewing on his lip. It was okay as long as it was just Rosa…and anyway, he trusted Maria not to tell people about the  _ reason  _ they kissed, even if she wanted to talk about the fact that they  _ did.  _

Rosa also looked away, Alex’s brief confirmation making her feel warm for some reason, like she was ashamed or...or  _ jealous _ ...

Alex said, “So, um, you kissing girls...I’m definitely not weirded out by it—are you? Like, how did you feel?”

His heart fluttered, anticipation and jealousy. Half his summer had been mental calculus about what boys might say yes to kissing him and where he might go to find them. Sometimes he had nightmares where his dad could read minds and that’s why he was also trapped inside all summer, but now that summer was almost over, planning returned in full force.

“Oh,  _ I’m  _ for sure weirded out by it!” Rosa laughed. “I thought I just hated girly things my whole life because they were girly, and now I’m starting to think I just hated them because they try to brainwash you with heteronormative bullshit. I  _ like— _ ” Rosa might have been about to say something specifically about Maria’s obsession with shoes and make up, just on her, but she didn’t want to get into the specifics yet. “I like girly stuff on other girls. Kissing Gina was like, way nicer than kissing Matteo or Frederico. Like, just objectively. You could tell she brushed her teeth and exfoliated her lips and didn’t have patchy gross baby mustache getting in the way.” 

Alex’s fingers went reflexively to his upper lip but he snatched his hand down again before Rosa could laugh at him.

“I kind of know what you mean,” he said. “With my brothers and in locker rooms and with guys...there’s this  _ pressure  _ when they start talking about girls, or even when they’re  _ not  _ it’s like in the background. And for a while it was like, oh, you’re the youngest so you want to prove yourself. People always compare you to your brothers and you want to be better than them at  _ everything.  _ And then I thought I just didn’t want to—to  _ score points  _ the way that’s expected because it’s gross to talk about girls like that. But then I, I think about how I feel around some guys, or,” he laughed at himself, “How I feel when I listen to guys sing? And I don’t have any answers. Or any answers that I think I’m allowed to have.”

Rosa winced and huffed sympathetically throughout Alex’s explanation, though at the end she took his hand and squeezed it. “You are allowed. You’re Alex Fucking Manes, you don’t even care about  _ allowed. _ ” 

“Ha! Yeah. My dad’s voice is pretty fucking loud up there, though. Sometimes that makes it easier, just because I think I thrive on spite. But most of the time...especially after this summer…?” He blinked emotion out of his eyes and flickered a smile at Rosa. “I’ve thought about talking to Mimi about this. But no matter what I know logically, I’ve been too scared of what she might say.”

“Hey, now, don’t disrespect Mama DeLuca like that!” Rosa said, grabbing Alex by the shoulders. “You can tell her anything. I almost ran away this summer because I got caught with a little pot and found out Jim Valenti’s my  _ dad _ —”

“Wait,  _ what?  _ Oh my  _ god— _ ” But Alex recovered quickly again, even though he couldn’t stop laughing, “S-so I guess you  _ don’t  _ want to hear my tortured confession about how I can’t stop thinking about Kyle’s cheekbones even though he hates me now? Oh my God _ , Jim _ !”

Rosa busted up laughing, delighted by Alex’s reaction. “See, man, there you go. There’s your test right there. Kyle and me are your litmus test.”

Rosa stood up and spun around as if showing herself off, still giggling. “Me: super smokin’ hot, one of your best friends, knows more  _ Buffy  _ trivia than you will ever know, but a chick. Versus Kyle Valenti, spoiled prick, asshole jock who gets  _ Star Wars _ and  _ Star Trek _ mixed up all the time, but a  _ dude _ . Who would you rather make out with?” 

Alex looked at Rosa for a long time, then groaned and buried his face in his hands, spinning in his desk chair. Kissing Maria had been  _ nice,  _ so nice that it was only more confusing, but when Rosa put it like that, when he thought about what it might be  _ like  _ to kiss Kyle, if he’d be super warm, if it would be like right after soccer practice, around the back of the fence like with Kelly but Kyle instead, a hypothetical nice version Kyle rather than tool Kyle…

“Ughhhh,” he groaned again. “How can someone be  _ wrong about Star Trek  _ and I’m still attracted to him?”

Rosa stopped laughing, though her mouth twitched so it was obviously a near thing as she attempted to be solemn as she squeezed his shoulder. “I’m sorry to tell you this, Alex. You are definitely both gay  _ and  _ have very poor taste. It’s very rare in gay men, but I’m afraid you won’t be very good at interior decorating or hosting brunches.” 

Then she snorted, loudly, and then they were both laughing. 

“Oh god, I don’t think I’ve ever even  _ said  _ the word brunch out loud,” Alex said through tears, “Do you think there’s gonna be a test? Will they not give me my gay card?”

“Maybe you can take the lesbian test for me and I’ll take the gay test for you!” Rosa laughed. 

“I  _ need  _ to see Rosa Ortecho plan Ann Evans’s next brunch.”

After they laughed themselves out, though, harder and longer than they had any real right to, Alex finally stood up, and he pulled Rosa into a hug that started awkward but improved as they both relaxed.

Then Alex held her at arm’s length and said, as sincerely as possible, “Thank you, Rosa. I mean that. I—I never would have talked about this stuff, so  _ thank  _ you, for telling me, and for letting me.”

“No worries, Alex,” Rosa said, squeezing him as hard as she could. Alex was strong, and he gave good hugs, really put everything into them, and she liked that. “I’m still not sure if I’m a lesbian or bisexual or just, I don’t know, falling into some edgy artist girl stereotype a few years before I hit the ‘co-ed’ part of it. But I’m glad we figured you out. You need me to be your winglesbian, hit me up.” 

“Well...I think that Mimi voice we all need in our heads would say that ‘we’re still young and don’t  _ need  _ everything figured out right now,’ so I think you’re okay. And don’t stress out about stereotypes, okay? There is nothing fake or generic or reductive about you. You are all Rosa.” He squeezed her hand, like she’d done for him. “But if you ever want to talk about this stuff again, or just about girls you like or anything...come find me, okay?”

"I will. You know I was, like, attracted to Gina's  _ wrists _ while she was shaking a can of paint, so maybe gender isn't what I'm attracted to at all. Maybe I get turned on by transgressive art," Rosa laughed and shrugged. "Not sure we'll find  _ that _ one on a LGBT website."

She squeezed Alex once more before letting him go. "So, wait, back up. Kyle Valenti hates you now?" 

Alex groaned again. Stupid Kyle. “Yeah, he’s just—at first I thought it was, like, a jealousy thing, because a girl he liked was into me instead. But he hasn’t mentioned Kelly in weeks, and he hasn’t stopped making my life hell every time I have to be around him, so...I guess this is the new normal. Which is great, honestly.”

“Yeah, you could do a hell of a lot better,” Rosa said. “But it’s still my prerogative as his older sister to beat him up if he’s being shitty to you because you’re gay. You don’t need to thank me. It will be my pleasure, truly. And if Jimbo says anything...well, he can’t say anything. But I’ll tell him my brother’s being a shit and I’m just keeping him in line. You know Jim  _ loves  _ you. He’d be furious if you just told him what Kyle was doing.” 

“I… No, I can handle Kyle,” Alex said firmly.

The thought of going to Jim to complain about Kyle...it made Alex cold. Made his stomach squirm like it was full of worms. The thought of Jim hearing him complain and turning the same cold, disappointed look on Alex as his own father, seeing Alex’s  _ weakness— _

He couldn’t. He could handle Kyle. He had three older brothers, he knew how to handle bullies. Even ones he used to trust. It would be  _ fine.  _

"Okay, look," Rosa said, as she followed Alex through locking up the Emporium. "Don't take this as like a hate crime or anything, but Kyle has literally never been  _ more _ my problem than right now. Let me big sister him a little. I'll be gentle, since it’s his first time."

“Okay, okay.”

They checked each exhibit for stragglers, though they was fairly certain no one was lingering, then they exited onto the street, Alex locking the door behind them. The Crashdown was only a few blocks from the Emporium, an easy walk, but Alex had to bike home to get there before dark. Still, he wasn’t ready to say goodbye to Rosa, to lose the understanding they’d given each other in the ticket booth.

So he walked her home, all the way to the alleyway and the stairs to the Ortechos’ home, the walls now bathed in color from Rosa’s mural.

“Thank you,” he said again, before she went inside.

“No worries, man, thanks for being there for me. I love a good blackmail secret between friends. You sure you don’t want to come inside and let Liz and Michael love on ya? Aw, no, shit. Liz is at bio camp and Michael is at Sanders’ today. But you could still come in!”

Alex’s brain stalled out somewhere around “Michael love on ya,” so he just shook his head and spluttered out a goodbye, and beat a swift retreat back to the street.

“Alex!” Rosa called, “We didn’t even figure out a secret handshake!” but he was already gone. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw for Kyle still in his homophobic bully phase
> 
> Rosa probably also needs a warning because bullying for the right side doesn't make bullying right!

Michael loved Biology like he loved all science classes. If he had his way, he’d take science 5 periods a day and cram everything else into the other time slots, but _nooo_. Such were the draconian rules of the New Mexico education system

It was also one of two classes Michael had with Alex, which made it even better, and also the last class they had before lunch, something that Max looked decidedly green about as the teacher went over the syllabus and got to the part about dissections.

Every first day in every class was the same—after Michael got over the shock and thrill of being down in the O’s in roll call now, officially right after Elizabeth “I go by Liz” Ortecho; they’d go over the syllabus and the textbook, introduce themselves to a class of kids they’d known for years already and already introduced themselves to multiple times that day. Except in this class, the torturous introductions ended early so everyone could pick lab partners.

Max gave Michael a look that was hilariously tragic, the agony of indecision in every dramatic line as he was torn between brotherly loyalty and his heart’s desire—to spend as much time with Liz as physically possible. Michael relished making the choice easy for him, as he turned to Alex.

“Wanna partner up?” He jiggled his pencil in his hands. “You said as much over the summer. I’m good with being your ticket to acing this class.”

“I figured that was already set,” Alex said, a little surprised, and even more surprised when Max joined them. 

“So...did you have a partner, Michael, or…?” 

“Max, why don’t you ask Liz?” Alex suggested, like it was a brand new idea that no one had ever thought of before. 

Max blushed. “Oh, I didn’t want to…assume...” 

“Dude, ask her,” Michael said. “Before other people start lining up to get the easiest A of their entire lives.”

Max hunched his shoulders like he was trying to take up less space: he had hit a growth spurt over the summer, and felt awkward about how big he was now so he still acted smaller than he was. “You  _ know  _ that’s not why I want to…” 

Liz didn’t seem to be taking callers at the moment, though, as she stood up, ignoring anyone clamoring for her attention as she strode across the room to her friends. 

“Who’s your partner, Michael?” She asked sunnily, eyes only slightly narrowed. Michael shot her a slightly feral grin in return. Science classes were always most fun when the two of them were together. A little...healthy competition to keep life interesting.

“I’m good with Alex. Oh, I know—you should partner with Max! Maybe he’ll spy on me and give you all my secrets.”

Max gave Michael a glare that was both withering and grateful at the same time, and then turned literal puppy eyes on Liz Ortecho. Alex thought distantly how lucky Liz was, and then  _ really  _ had to admit to himself that he was gay, because that was just embarrassing. 

“I don’t have a partner yet,” Max managed, which sounded vaguely cool if it hadn’t been said in his voice, which cracked massively. Michael and Alex’s faces were carefully blank, which he appreciated, even if he was going to get ribbed later. “Would you like to be my partner, Liz? O-or did I hold you back too much in Bio Camp?”

“Well, I trust you to not get  _ too  _ lost in Middle-earth when we have actual assignments that matter to do,” she teased. “You’ll make a great lab assistant! You can follow orders, right?”

Michael and Alex’s tight control over their laughter broke at that, and they snorted audibly, which only made Max blush more. 

“Yeah! Yeah. Anyway I finished  _ Lord of the Rings _ , I-I’m reading  _ Dune  _ now… That’s not important—”

“Hey, I like  _ Dune _ ,” Alex said, and pursed his lips at Michael playfully, and went for it. “Maybe we could be lab partners and talk about it?” 

“Oh, I…” Max began.

“Hey!”

Michael’s scandalized yelp was just a bit too loud, enough to embarrass him. Even Liz laughed at him for it.

She said, “Looks like it’s me and you, then, Mikey. Our partners have abandoned us, there’s nothing left to do but take over the world.”

“Very tempting. No one to hold us back…”

“God, they’re going to do Frankenscience,” Alex said, but he sucked in a breath as Max turned puppy-dog eyes on  _ him  _ like he wasn’t in on this already. He coughed, then. “But, uh, fine. One science and one humanities person per group. To keep the science ethical.”

“Pssh, ethics,” Liz scoffed.

Michael boggled at her. “What did camp  _ do  _ to you?”

“I learned a lot this summer,” Max told Liz with such earnestness that even Liz looked at him like he was a goober. “I’ll be the best lab partner!”

Michael turned to Alex then, leaning his elbow on his desk and putting his chin in his hand. He couldn’t help but stare directly at him, even if his brain was screaming at him to not be creepy. Alex was wearing  _ makeup,  _ just a little eyeliner smudged around his big, dark eyes, and it was mesmerizing. More mesmerizing than it was even on girls, Michael thought, though he didn’t even know why. It just...fit him.

“Are you gonna be the best lab partner?” Michael asked.

“Me?” Alex asked, bemused. “You gonna make me?” 

If he was flirting accidentally with one of his best friends, Alex didn’t notice or care. He felt, somehow, perfectly safe around Michael, and that meant safe enough to joke and tease.

Michael’s face caught on fire and his elbow slipped off the desk, slamming his funnybone onto the edge as it went, making him yelp again.

Alex laughed and rubbed the injured elbow in quiet support.

“You should move over next to my table!” Liz said to Max, “Next class; the bell’s about to ring. If we sync up our notes we’ll be more on the same page when labs come around.”

“So you’re ditching me for real, huh, Max?” Alex asked, still teasing. “Well, we’ll talk  _ Dune  _ vs.  _ Lord of the Rings _ at lunch.  _ Lord of the Rings _ is better, obviously…”

The bell rang, and Liz packed up, excited to get to math, because she was psychotic. Alex watched her go, and Max after her. 

“He’s got it bad, Michael. So bad. Have you not talked to her about this?” Alex asked. “Do you need me to? Or is she just torturing him on purpose?”

“I mean, she’s gotta know. Rosa teases her about it like all the time; I reserve my mockery for Max. If she  _ is  _ torturing him on purpose, I say let her.”

“That’s fair. Some people are into that,” Alex said cheerfully, and then Michael shouldered his backpack and slid Alex’s textbook off the desk to carry it for him before he could grab it himself. 

“Need to stop by your locker before lunch?” He asked, casually, like he had no idea what  _ he  _ was doing.

“I mean, if you want to keep carrying my stuff, be my guest,” Alex said, watching Michael with more than his usual intensity. 

Michael shrugged and grinned. “You spent the whole summer spearfishing and climbing mountains and shit,” he said, “I gotta start proving I can still keep up with you somehow.”

Alex gave him a soft smile at that. 

“Let’s go eat lunch on the bleachers,” he suggested, moving Michael in that direction without waiting for an answer. He knew Michael would let him lead, even though it was kind of weird to know that so certainly. It almost made him nervous. “I think Maria’s gonna try to find Rosa, and we should let Max and Liz have their space and—where does Isobel even eat?” 

“With me and Max and whoever else, usually. She’ll probably insert herself between Max and Liz and enjoy herself doing it. You’re gonna have to show me the best spot on the bleachers...I’ve never even been to a football game here. Flint plays, right? Are you gonna try out or stick with soccer or something?”

Alex loved it when he got Michael talking: sometimes it was just nervous chatter like this, but sometimes, if Alex was careful and attentive and said the right things, Michael would go crazy on some topic or another, mostly related to space or—more and more, now—engineering, or physics. He just kept leading him to a spot with some dappled shade, far enough from the cheerleaders that were suntanning that he knew he didn’t need to give a second glance. 

“Yeah, Flint’s on the team, but he only plays if we’re winning already. Greg starts sometimes. And no, I won’t be joining them. I’ll stick with music, actually,” Alex said, ushering Michael all the way to the top, where the very lush and too-close tree was growing into the bleachers. “Best spot is right past all the pokey bits, it’s nice and quiet and private.” 

Sure enough, once you got past the branches, there was just enough space for two people to sit and eat here, mostly hidden from the rest of the world. They both always brought packed lunches, which meant maximum time for eating and talking. “How’s this?” 

Michael didn’t even know what to  _ say,  _ just watched Alex with a gentle awe on his face, not even touching his food for a long, sweet moment. There wasn’t much space in this spot, teetering at the very top of the bleachers, and it put the two boys much closer than they might have sat otherwise, knees knocking together every time they moved.

Alex must have found this spot hiding from his brothers while he waited for them to finish practice, Michael thought, and the fact that Alex was willing to share it with him filled him with this quiet joy he barely knew how to stand.

“U-um,” he said eventually, “So your dad didn’t have a cow about the music stuff? That’s good!”

“Oh, he did,” Alex said, and shrugged. A lot of dealing with his dad was just weathering the storm, accepting the consequences, and moving on. 

But it shut Michael right down, and Alex didn’t like doing that, so he forced a smile (which didn’t take much effort for Michael). “But fuck him. I wish you didn’t have to work so much so we could both do music.” 

“Yeah, me too.”

Michael shifted a centimeter closer to Alex, like being close to him now could protect him somehow. It felt better than doing nothing.

He continued, “Having only extracurriculars that pay me is okay for now, though. I need to save up as much as I can in case I can’t get a full ride. I don’t ever want to burden Mr. Ortecho.”  _...More than I already have,  _ he didn’t add, instead joking, “Old man Sanders is still about 25-75 on the ‘paying me’ stuff though.”

“ _ Michael _ ,” Alex scolded, shaking his head, but laughing. Michael was growing up to be exactly like Mr. Ortecho, in Alex’s opinion: too kind for his own good and glad to help out almost anyone for nothing. It made him feel fiercely protective of him, like he was worried Michael would be taken advantage of. It worried him, too, about what he hoped to tell Michael himself, maybe today, if he could find an opening. “You’re going to get a full ride. Don’t worry about it. Your test scores alone are already crazy.” 

Michael was crazy, Alex thought. Crazy gorgeous, crazy sweet and brilliant and vulnerable. He’d always liked Michael, but it was over the summer he realized he couldn’t stop thinking about him, and combined with his sexual awakening, that probably only meant one thing. But Alex was determined to be careful with Michael, and that meant not ruining their friendship and not exposing him to more shit than he already dealt with. Poor guy was obviously terrified of Jesse Manes, moreso even than Alex himself was, and if Jesse found out Alex had kissed a boy…

Well, it wasn’t worth it for that. “Well, I have music last period, if you want to come hang out for a bit, even, before you have to go.” 

“Yeah, sure! I’ll meet you at the music room? I think Rosa and Liz can wait ten minutes.” 

“Oh, don’t worry about it, I don’t want to get you in trouble,” Alex said. Michael was good enough at getting himself in trouble, clearly: he didn’t need Alex’s help. He tried to sound soothing: “I’ll swing by the Crashdown between music and work. I’ll see you then, and tomorrow, and the day after. It’s not summer anymore.” 

Alex found himself putting his hand on Michael’s back, and leaving it there, feeling Michael relax physically under his touch. (God, he was too trusting.)

Right. It wasn’t summer anymore. Those words could have made Michael float—no one could  _ stop  _ Alex from seeing all his friends now, not even Jesse Manes. In fact, he subtly checked around himself to make sure nothing  _ was  _ floating, just in case. Michael leaned into the hand lingering on his back. It felt good, that little touch. Whenever Alex touched him like that it felt like being a little kid again, on that huge boulder surrounded by stars, feeling powerful and necessary giving Alex someone to be with when he had nobody.

He scarfed down some of his food, having to remind himself to eat and not just talk Alex’s ear off for forty-five minutes, as much as Alex was a good listener, and seemed to like to hear him talk.

He kept getting re-distracted though. “What instrument are you playing in Music? Piano and guitar are your things, right?”

“Yeah, but the club goes in like, units, so we’ll do sort of band and orchestra and things, and then we can specialize if we want to after that. Music majors in college usually need to know how to play more than one instrument. I can sing, too.” 

“O-oh, yeah,” Michael said, suddenly hyper-aware of how probably weird it would be to say  _ you’ll have to sing for me sometime, then.  _

The warning bell sounded from the school behind them, signalling ten minutes until the end of lunch. It made Michael jump out of his skin, still sensitive to loud noises, even more so because this little spot  _ felt  _ so secure, so secluded, even though school and the world was really only inches away.

“Oh, shit.”

He wasn’t ready to leave.  _ You can eat here every day. It’ll be fine.  _ But he still wasn’t ready.

Alex wasn’t rushing, just calmly packing up the parts of his lunch he was saving for a snack later, and bundling the trash efficiently. He even took the trash from Michael’s lunch in with his. Alex wished he had afternoon classes with Michael, but he knew that Michael was in History with Max and Math with Isobel, so he’d be fine. “Okay, so I’ll see you at the Crashdown later.” 

Trotting down from the bleachers, Alex jerked to a stop when he realized Kyle Valenti had spotted him. He rolled his eyes at him as obviously as he could, waiting for him to make a move. 

“Oh, hey, Valenti.” Michael gave an awkward half-wave. It was impossible not to pick up on the tension radiating off of both the other boys, but he didn’t know why or what happened.

He did know that the smile Kyle shot him was nothing but a nasty curl of his lips, and it made him look nothing like the guy Michael knew.

“Hey, Guerin. You ladies having fun up there?”

“I dunno, you have fun getting dropped off in a cop car your first day of school? Real cool look, Kyle,” Michael retorted. It was hard to make jabs at Kyle when you were forced to respect his parents so goddamn much.

"I thought Manes was the only gay here, Guerin. You batting for the other team now, too?" Kyle continued. 

"Shut the fuck up, Valenti. Not everyone's as interested in other dudes' sex lives as you are," Alex snarled, shoulder-checking him hard as he went past. He said lowly, "If you were ever actually my friend, leave him out of this."

Kyle grabbed Alex’s shoulder and jerked him back around to face him, so roughly Alex almost lost footing on the bleachers. Michael scrambled down to get in between them, shouting “Hey!” and almost two seconds from punching Kyle right in his stupid cheekbones, when another voice caught his attention.

“Boys!” Rosa snapped. All three of them looked up at her. 

“Rosa?”

“Alex, Michael, get to class. Me ‘n Valenti are going to have a little talk.”

"I don't have a problem with you," Kyle tried to tell her, though he took his hand off Alex's arm. Rosa Ortecho had a kind of down to throw down reputation that Kyle didn't precisely want to mess with. 

"Rosa, please," Alex begged. "I don't need you to protect me."

"I'm not protecting you. I'm teaching Valenti here a lesson. That's different."

"Whatever, I've gotta get to class, I'm not getting detention for this," Kyle said, trying to brush past her, but Rosa put a hand on his shoulder. Quite sensibly, he froze. 

"Detention lasts a day. What I'm about to tell you is gonna scar you for a lifetime."

"I'm not—"

"Rosa," Alex said again, more firmly. 

"And a broken nose takes three weeks to heal," Rosa added, like she didn't hear either of them. She slid her arm around Kyle's shoulders, definitely more threatening than friendly. "What's it gonna be, Valenti? We gonna chat quietly or loudly?"

Kyle shook. "Okay, okay, whatever. We can talk."

"Good answer," Rosa said cheerfully before raising her voice to the others. "Get to class, dweeb, and take Alex with you, I mean it."

“Let’s go, Alex,” Michael mumbled, and dragged Alex away even as it earned him a death glare. Michael knew better than to argue with Rosa at this point. They got back to the building with only a couple minutes to spare, not long enough to really talk before they had to go their separate ways. Michael’s chest ached as Alex barely looked at him before disappearing up the stairs.

Kyle watched the two of them leave with an ugly look on his face, then he turned that look on Rosa, taking a step further up the bleachers so he’d keep the high ground.

“We’re not kids anymore. You don’t scare me.”

“I don’t need to scare you, Kyle. I’m perfectly happy kicking your ass until you learn to be scared,” Rosa said, taking a step towards him just to watch him flinch before she sat down, patting the seat next to her. “Let’s talk about our Dad.” 

Hands clenching into tight fists, Kyle spat, “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

He took a step down, but he didn’t sit.

“It means that you’ve got bigger rumors to worry about than whether Alex is gay or not,” Rosa said. “Your dad stepped out on your mom and slept with my mom.”

“What? No, he didn’t. He  _ wouldn’t.  _ My dad is—”

“He did. Go home, cry to mommy and daddy, tell them you’re old enough for the truth, and ask them if they want that spread around the school. They can’t fucking stop me, I’m Jim Valenti’s daughter.” 

When Kyle looked like he wanted to say something, Rosa stood up so fast Kyle actually jumped. “You’re my half-brother, Kyle, which is the only reason I  _ half _ -care that you’re being such a little shit and a bully and a tool to someone who used to be your best friend. I look after my family, even if that means beating you until you act right.” 

“ _ He’s  _ the one who changed, not me,” Kyle snapped. “I’m not going to let everyone think I’m a freak from my first day of high school just so his  _ feelings  _ don’t get hurt.”

"Then drop him. Forget about him, ignore him, and hope it's as  _ easy _ as it was for him to drop you." This was technically a lie, especially considering Alex still thought Kyle was hot, but was the meanest thing Rosa could think of to say, because apathy was always worse than hatred. If she didn't know better, she might have thought it actually hit Kyle where it counted. "You go around obsessed with bullying him, that's gonna invite a different kind of rumor,  _ bro _ . Got it?"

“I  _ will  _ ask my dad about you, and when he says you’re a  _ liar  _ I’m going to make your life hell, Ortecho. You are so fucking out of final warnings in this town, and you must be fucking stupid too if you’re trying to interfere in the fucking sheriff’s family.”

Kyle stormed off at that, steam practically pouring out of his ears.

Rosa shrugged. Not the best first impression, but he'd come around, she thought, as she made her way to class. 

…

Michael took a deep breath and hesitated outside the music room, serenaded by the dulcet tones of warmups. He didn’t know if Alex was even here yet—Michael had run all the way here straight from last period—but still, Michael needed a second to himself.

As the day went on, he’d felt increasingly uncomfortable—more  _ worried,  _ really—about how Alex was feeling, how much of a betrayal this must be to him. It was bizarre enough for Michael to reconcile this Kyle with the kid who offered to protect him from bullies once, how bad must it be for Alex, who’d been friends with him basically since birth?

And then there was, well…

Michael had heard the insults more than once, of course, but with Kyle it felt targeted. He had that awful, smug look Michael wanted to punch right off his face. So maybe Michael didn’t know anything, maybe Alex would get mad, but if one friend had already betrayed him, Michael needed to let him know that he wouldn’t be one more.

Alex was doing warm up vocals with the others when he saw a familiar silhouette by the door. Practice hadn’t technically started yet, so Alex excused himself and met Michael at the door, pulling him out to the stairwell. 

“Michael, I told you, you didn’t have to come,” Alex said, realizing he was still holding his arm and letting him go. “I don’t want you to be late.” 

“I won’t be! Seriously, Rosa makes us wait all the time, I’ll probably still beat her there. I just wanted to talk to you about something. About earlier. Look, Kyle’s a jerk, apparently, and maybe I’m overreacting, but…”

“Hey, hey,” Alex said, squeezing Michael’s shoulder this time, but he immediately worried that Michael might not want him to touch him like this anymore, so he just squeezed once and let him go. “Kyle is my problem. I’m sorry I got you into this.” 

Michael grabbed for Alex’s retreating hand, wrapping his own around Alex’s skinny wrist.

“No! No, you’re my friend, so Kyle is my problem too as long as he’s your problem, yeah? Look, um…”

He shifted his weight. Even though he’d had an entire half a day to think about what to say, he still had nothing, so he just went for it.

“Look, you can punch me for this if you want or whatever, but I just wanted to say...it’s shitty, what Kyle said. And if it’s true or whatever, it doesn’t matter to me. You’re not gonna lose another friend to douchery, okay? I...didn’t like that I let you leave, earlier, without making sure you knew that.”

“Oh, Michael,” Alex said, and couldn’t stop himself from touching Michael’s face, briefly, before he again stopped himself, even though they were alone, and he could have sworn Michael leaned into it. “Even if Kyle was right? I mean, a jerk about it, but right? Do you still want to be friends with a gay dude?” 

“I want to be friends with  _ you, _ ” Michael blurted, then backpedaled. “I mean, uh, that’s not a—a thing that matters, when I’m thinking about being friends with people. People are just people, right? You’re my friend, so I just want you to be happy. And I’ll kick Kyle’s ass if that’s what it takes, assuming Rosa left anything for the rest of us.”

Alex laughed, struck by a kind of aching delight. “Yeah, I don’t think we need to worry about him. Your sister can be really scary when she wants to be.” 

Michael was still holding Alex’s wrist, and Alex turned his hand into it, so he was gripping Michael’s wrist, too. “I, uh, would have liked to come out to you under better circumstances. Sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. You’re a good friend, Michael. I wanted to tell you.” 

“No apologies. It’s your secret—you don’t owe it to anyone. Fuck anyone who tells you otherwise,” Michael said earnestly. He knew a thing or two about dangerous secrets. 

“Well, I owe it to you,” Alex said.

Michael glanced at the clock over Alex’s head and grimaced. Liz and Rosa would probably be mad at him by now.

“Crap, look, I need to get going. I’ll see you soon, okay?”

“Okay,” Alex said, and squeezed Michael’s wrist, but didn’t actually let go right away. “Thanks for coming, Michael. I promise I’ll stop by the Crashdown later. See you then. Thanks for being...so cool about this shit.” 

“Ha, no way, I’m being a huge dork right now. Not a cool bone in my body,” he said with a wink.

The tug between them when he went to turn away made Michael realize that he hadn’t let go of Alex either, and he blushed as he did so, not commenting, running away before Alex could. His palm buzzed with sensation all the way out of the building and to meet his sisters.

He was distracted by it the entire rest of the afternoon.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW for discussions of canonical past infidelity and making a man deal with the consequences for once
> 
> also CW for mentions of Caulfield and all the illegal detainment and sundry tortures implied therein
> 
> AKA, Jim fucked up in the past and is doing his best to fix that now

Mimi put her mug down on the edge of the desk. Jim didn’t have any coasters in his office, but she was conscientious anyway, setting it exactly in a ring already staining the old wood.

She had dark circles under her eyes, deep and graven on her face that was usually so timeless. It was as close to looking in a mirror as Jim ever felt on days like today.

“Maria’s started having nightmares,” she said. She ran her pendant through her fingers again and again and again. “Nothing she ever remembers in the morning. I don’t even know if it’s related. Kids have night terrors sometimes, right? But she’s almost fifteen, and I was eighteen when I—” she choked off, closed her eyes, and continued, “And I can’t help but think that the answer might be in—that place. But what kind of person does it make me that I want to storm those walls to protect my baby, but we’ve let it stand—with all those innocent people—”

“We tried,” Jim said, however lame the excuse was. Yes, he _had_ tried, but even looking into the prison with any intent other than those that matched up with Jesse Manes’ diabolical plans got vengeance rained down upon him, in the form of an inquest and a scandal that got him removed from the office of Sheriff and—he had never told Michelle this—had directly threatened the safety of his family. He hadn’t told Michelle this, of course, because she would not have stood for it. She was definitely the kick-in-the-door one of the family, as Kyle was growing to be. 

Oh, and Kyle…

Kyle had come to Michelle’s office crying that afternoon, and Jim had gladly fielded that one when she called him to do so, and told his son that, while perhaps unkind in practice, Rosa was a good person and was indeed his sister. It was still entirely unclear to Jim what had started this whole affair, as he didn’t think Rosa would have just set out to upend Kyle’s worldview like that, but perhaps Kyle had been old enough for a while and Jim had been taking the easy way out by not telling him. So now Kyle was mad at him, too, and he was working late because he wasn’t sure he could look him or Michelle in the eye after reliving all of that. 

So, being reminded how he was formerly complicit in the illegal detainment and interrogation and experimentation and vivisection of extraterrestrial lifeforms in his own home state. Sure, why not deal with that today, too. So much for the Valenti Code. He was always taking the easy way out, it seemed...

“We tried, but we don’t have a castle to storm. Jesse is _dangerous_. Ruthless. Unless we have a plan and move fast, it means endangering our own families, Mimi, not to mention all the detainees. We can’t just poke around,” Jim continued. Then, because it might be a lead: “What are Maria’s dreams about?” 

“Either she truly doesn’t remember or she just doesn’t want to talk about them. But in the past week or so she’s called out once for me, once for Rosa...and once for her grandma. During the day she seems fine, happy, even, but Jim, I’m terrified.”

Jim’s blood boiled whenever Mimi talked about her mother. Not only aliens were tortured by Project Shepherd, but human beings, vulnerable women. “Okay, okay. We’ll—”

The front door to Jim’s office opened. 

Jim looked at Mimi. It was way after hours, the office assistant had gone home, and there weren’t a lot of people who had a key. He stood up, reaching instinctively for a gun he hadn’t carried in years. 

And then Jesse Manes was in the doorway, and going unarmed suddenly seemed like a deathly naive decision.

“Oh, hello, Mimi,” the man said pleasantly, “I didn’t know you would be here. I hope I’m not interrupting anything.” He turned his thin-lipped smile on Jim. “But then, I’m sure Michelle and young Kyle are used to the man of the house being...late for dinner.”

“Been home and back, already, Manes,” Jim said tiredly. There was a lot this man could do to him, but browbeat wasn’t one of them. He had his own friends for that. “How’d you get in?” 

“I had your assistant leave the door open. She’s very cooperative, you know that?” 

Jim barely kept himself from rolling his eyes. Another one bites the dust for Team Manes. “Okay, so what do you want with my office? Would you like me in it or shall I wait outside?” 

“Implying I’d steal from you? No, I have nothing but respect for our civil servants.”

Mimi snorted. Jesse didn’t acknowledge her.

“No, I just wanted to drop by to say how much I appreciate the work you do. You know, I was eating at the Crashdown Cafe with my boys the other day, and I had an interesting conversation with one of the young men working there. I had no idea Arturo’s citizenship came through. He’s a good man—it was good of you as well to see that and place a child in need in that home. I assume you did so personally?”

Jim went cold, but quickly recovered.

“Oh, yes! Let’s see, I’ve got proof of those documents filed here—” he opened a random drawer in his file cabinet, “under, let’s see, N, I think, for _None of Your Goddamn Business_.” 

He slammed the file cabinet shut and stalked across to Jesse, knowing he was letting Jesse bait him, but threatening Arturo? Michael? It made him see red. “I work for the State Department, Manes, a Master Sergeant in the Air Force does not get to come in here and bully his way into private files he has no business looking into.” 

“Jim,” Mimi said quietly.

But Jesse didn’t so much as flinch.

“Not making any requests. You’re right; I’m positive any such records would be sealed, since they involve juveniles. Any similar cases, too. For instance, I’ve always wondered whatever happened to those three poor kids who got dumped on the highway back in ‘97...but I guess we’ll never know. Michelle worked on that case, didn’t she? Terrible business.”

Jim, reined in by Mimi’s admonition, moved no closer than he was, but he didn’t back down. “You’ll have to ask her about that. She’ll probably tell you it’s also none of your business and that she can’t talk about her cases.” 

“You’re probably right—worth a shot. Michelle hasn’t really had the time of day for me since you and I began to disagree, but no harm in asking, right? Well. I won’t keep you two long. Something about tonight just had me thinking of old times and wanting to pay a visit. Glad I caught you.”

And he held out his hand to shake.

And Jim took it, despite his better judgment, because if he was an idiot he at least wasn’t going to be a coward. 

He walked Jesse to the door, locked it behind him, double checked it, triple checked it, and then went back to his office to sit down with Mimi. 

They sat in silence for a moment before Jim stood up again, grabbing his hat and handing her his coat. “I’m positive he’s got this place bugged now, let’s talk somewhere else.” 

They went out to the parking lot, and neither of them felt unjustly paranoid as they scanned the outside of the building and their cars. The shadow of Jesse Manes felt particularly long and dark in the late evening, and Mimi sat in Jim’s passenger seat so they could talk, but it was a long time before either of them said a word.

“We said we’d protect him. Arturo.” Mimi said. “We promised—or at least, I promised myself—that no harm would come to him or his family. And we never could have kept that promise, could we have? We haven’t been able to do anything.”

“I know, I know,” Jim said. “But Manes is onto us, he knows…” 

But they still had to do something. “I’ll talk to Michelle. Maybe she can—how good of an actor you think she is, or could be?” 

Mimi raised an eyebrow at him. “How long did it take before you realized she knew about Helena, again?”

“ _Ouch_ , Mimi,” Jim complained, touching his heart, but the hamster wheel was spinning in his brain. “Okay, so maybe Michelle can try to do what I did. Let Jesse trust her a little. We could orchestrate a falling out. Kyle already hates me, I could stay in a hotel for a few weeks…” 

“Every fourteen year old hates their parents sometimes, Jimmy.” 

Jim rubbed his face, already emotionally exhausted. “You know I worry about Jesse’s kids, too? I don’t think Alex and Kyle hang out anymore. I worry about Alex.” 

“The amount of hate in that man is beyond unsuitable for bringing up children. I worry about those boys, too. I'm ready if they ever need a place to stay.”

She worried at her necklace again, staring out the window. Then continued, “But Jim...he could just be testing, looking to see what we do next. It might be best just to keep Michelle informed and see if he approaches her before you do anything drastic.”

Jim sighed, grateful to Mimi for talking him down off what he felt like was a ledge. “Okay. Except waiting and seeing has gotten us nowhere in years.” 

“Jesse hasn’t made a move in years, either. We’ve never had any sort of opening,” Mimi pointed out. “Now that he’s making decisions, we stand the chance of him making a wrong one. He’s broken the stalemate.”

Jim nodded, heartened by that, and then paused. They still needed to stay ahead of him. “Do you think the kids might know anything?” 

Getting minors involved was his last ditch idea before he suggested asking Mimi to use her psychic powers—the abilities that rotted her brain the more she used them. 

“I don’t know. It might be...maybe it’s time we sat them down and checked in with them. But how to do that without terrifying them out of their wits? And we have to do it carefully so we don’t answer Jesse’s questions by singling out three of this town’s adopted kids for him. At the Crashdown, maybe? It’s so open, though. Michael comes over to hang out with Maria sometimes, but the Evanses…” 

Jim thought about that for a long moment. "Liz Ortecho seems like she's friends with Max, and I think Isobel and Rosa became friends this summer. Maybe you could offer to host a party at your house...a nice, safe—I'll buy the snacks, whatever you want. The parents trust you, and we could talk to the...the special children at some point alone."

“I’ll try. It’s a little harder than putting in a couple _Harry Potter_ movies to get all the kids in the same place these days.” 

She shot Jim a faint smile.

“But I’ll figure something out. I need to get home. Thanks for listening, Jimmy.”

“I only wish I could do more, Mimi,” Jim said, and if he thought about going to the bar just to avoid going home, he took himself home on autopilot, anyway. 

...

Michelle was at the kitchen table when he got home, papers spread around her. Jim couldn’t help but stand and smile at her, the way she bit her thumbnail and glared at her work, a habit she’d had since the day he met her and that she never managed to break. The home office was hers, but no matter how imposing a desk they got her, she always needed more space to spread out, to piece things together.

“You’re late. Is Mimi alright?” she asked, not looking up.

Jim wondered if he should feel guilty, being out with a woman after dark, even though nothing happened. Instinct. Hell, he and Mimi had even dated in high school, and he wasn’t known for using his brain and…

“Yeah. Sorry. Uh. J-Jesse....” Jim swallowed, finally allowing himself to be scared of the encounter, and wanting to make sure Kyle was okay. 

Michelle looked up sharply at the trip in his voice. Something in Jim’s face must have given him away, because she stood and crossed the room to him, cupping his face in her hand.

“You ran into Jesse Manes? Jaime…” Worry creased her face for a moment, but then anger chased it away. “I am so sick of that man thinking he can terrorize our family.”

“I know.” Jim covered her hand with his. “Is...is Kyle still up? I want to talk to him. And then we can talk.” 

“He’s in his bedroom. He...might not want to talk to you right now, though.”

"I know. But he deserves me trying anyway," Jim said, and turned away. Then he turned back, looking again at the papers on her desk. " _You've_ got the kids' files!" he hissed. "No wonder Manes was snooping around!"

Michelle smiled grimly.

“Every year I tell myself that the case is beyond cold, that there’s no information left to be found about how those kids survived, unaging, for fifty years, that there’s no point in looking again...this year I succeeded. For a while. And now Jesse Manes is sniffing around it? Great.”

"Michelle," Jim said, knowing it would annoy his wife and there were more important things to think about, but— "I love you."

He bent down to kiss her, but she gave him her cheek. Fair. Didn't make him love her any less. 

Jim glanced down at the forms, seeing Michael's name change form in there and his legal guardian listed as Arturo Ortecho. Sure, for an adoption you needed citizenship, but not for guardianship. And they were working on the other one. They just might get it before he turned 18. That would be important, for both Arturo and Michael.

"How would you feel about...baiting him?" Jim asked. "He knows Mimi and I know, but I don't think anyone knows you do."

“Baiting him how? I don’t want the children in any danger. And I’d like to believe I know you, and you know me, well enough to know you would never suggest anything like that to me.”

Her voice was sharp, eyes flinty. The house was so quiet for a second they could hear the faint sounds of Kyle playing video games in his room.

"I—I just meant—" Jim said quietly, face burning, "as the Sheriff. See what he's after. But, uh. I guess that's a bad idea, anyway, and that's why you're the Sheriff."

Jim looked at the files. "We were thinking we should try talking to the kids. See if they know anything. If we could do that without...putting anyone in danger."

Michelle relented a little and squeezed Jim’s shoulder. “If Manes comes to me looking for information, I’ll play along, try to mislead him. And if danger is coming regardless...talking to them might be best. I do know you just want to do the right thing, Jaime.”

Jim didn't dare to hope for one more thing he didn't deserve, but he hoped that in addition to Michelle still loving him, that he would live to see the last of Jesse Manes. 

"I want those kids to be okay, Chelle," he said softly. "I know you do, too."

He kissed the top of her head and cleared his throat. "Speaking of, I better go talk to Kyle before he goes to bed." 

“Good luck,” she said lightly, lingered a second, then pulled out of his arms and returned to work.

Kyle didn’t look away from his TV when Jim knocked lightly and pushed the door open. Even when he died in his game and cussed loudly at the screen, he kept glaring right at it, eyes suspiciously red and glassy.

“I heard you fighting with mom,” he said. “Is she finally kicking you out? Don’t bother saying goodbye.”

Jim winced, but Kyle was at the top of the long list of people who were allowed to talk to him like that, so he let it go. 

“Nah, she let me off with a warning this time,” he told Kyle, trying a little too hard to be funny. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before Rosa did. You’ve definitely been old enough for a while, and I should have told you.” 

Kyle didn’t say anything, so Jim continued:

“It’s not just my secret to tell. It affects your mother, and Rosa, and Mr. Ortecho, and his kids. But still: I should have checked with them, and I should have told you. It’s, ah. It’s important to know that adults make mistakes. What’s important is what they do afterward.” 

“It’s more than just a _mistake._ I don’t understand. I don’t get why you’d do that to Mom, and I don’t get why she forgave you for it. I thought you loved us.”

And Kyle finally turned his furious, teary eyes on his father.

“I—I know,” Jim said, absorbing that hurt he knew he deserved. “Sometimes adults make _big_ mistakes. Sometimes they betray the ones they love, and they don’t always deserve forgiveness. Your mother is a good woman, a good person. She’s so driven by her belief in humanity, despite everything she’s seen. My greatest wish is for you to be like your mother.” 

Kyle scowled down at his controller, and he couldn’t help but think about the hurt and fury on Alex’s face, and how it hadn’t felt as good as he thought it might to feel powerful against him. 

Rosa didn’t hate Jim, apparently, so why should Kyle? He was the one who got all the dad things out of him, the one who got him as _family._ Maybe Rosa didn’t care, but Kyle did. 

“Well I’m _not_ her,” he snapped, though it was considerably weaker than before.

Hurting his dad didn’t feel good either. 

“That’s okay. Neither am I. I like to think of it as aspirational,” Jim said, with a little grin and a shrug. 

The longer Jim refused to get mad back, to tell him he was being disrespectful or ungrateful or whatever, the harder it was for Kyle to hold on to his own anger. But he kept a grip on it for at least a little longer, so he could ask his last question without his lip wobbling.

“Are you cheating on Mom right now? Do you have more families other than us? Kids younger than Rosa—younger than me?”

“No—oh God, mijo, no,” Jim said, and couldn’t stop himself from reaching out to squeeze the back of his neck. “I am so sorry I ever gave you cause to doubt. It was just the once, and I have been true to your mother ever since. I swear that to you, my son. No one else for me but your mother.” 

Kyle stared his father in the eyes. Did he believe him? _Could_ he believe him? 

“Okay,” he muttered, dropping his eyes away. 

“I don’t blame you for not believing me, and it’s not fair that I ask you to. Maybe someday, though I hope not, you’ll make a mistake and hurt someone you care about, and understand that it feels so bad you could never do it again.” Jim sighed. “I love you, Kyle.” 

He reflected that he perhaps didn’t say that enough, and Kyle deserved to know it.

Kyle didn’t say it back, and that hurt, but Jim understood. How could he not? He smiled at his son anyway and went to leave the room, only to be stopped with his hand on the doorframe.

“Goodnight, Dad,” Kyle said in a small voice.

“Goodnight, _mijo_.”


	9. Chapter 9

“Oh, shit!” Rosa cried, suddenly tearing open her backpack. “Oh, shit, I’m gonna have to go by home tomorrow before school! God damn it, what an idiot! Ugh!” 

She was staying the night at Maria’s house, which was a great honor on a school night. Her dad had even asked her if she was sure she had everything she needed for school tomorrow, and she had assured him she had. And she did! She had stupid math, stupid literature, stupid science, all of that in her bag. But the one class she cared about, art? No! Her school sketchbook and her killer portrait of her little sister was at home. “ _ ¡Estúpida! _ ” 

“Rosa? What’s wrong?”

“My stupid sketchbook! My art assignment!  _ Ugh!”  _

“Oh, crap! Um, Mom would probably take us over to yours so you can get it!”

“No, ugh, ugh—”

Rosa wanted to scream, cry, break something, like maybe her own dumb head. She didn’t want to make Mimi go out in the middle of the night or first thing in the morning, wake up her dad, inconvenience  _ everybody  _ and prove to her dad she was still an irresponsible idiot—

“Hey, Rosa, it’s okay,” Maria said softly, shifting over to wrap an arm around her shoulders. “Look, do you have another sketchbook? You can draw me! O-or,” Maria’s face flamed at her own boldness. The assignment was to draw a person important to you. “Or, um, I probably have a sketchbook around here somewhere. You know how I am with my hobbies.”

(She definitely had a sketchbook. She’d begged for it once, caught in a fit of both wanting to be exactly like Rosa and also for Rosa to notice her.)

“I’m such an idiot,” Rosa lamented one last time, before turning to her friend. “ _ Do _ you have a sketchbook? I’d just borrow it for class tomorrow, and you could keep it after, I just need it tomorrow. I could totally draw you!” 

Rosa glanced at the clock. It was only 11, it was fine. 

“Yeah, here—” Maria slid off her bed and went to her desk, digging around in a jumbled drawer and coming out with the book. It was the same brand as Rosa’s and everything, excusable by it being the cheapest kind that even slightly passed muster for an artist like Rosa, but Maria still blushed as she flipped hastily past pages of her own drawings and doodles to get to a blank page. Rosa wouldn’t snoop; she respected the sanctity of a sketchbook.

“How do you want me?” Maria asked, sitting back on the bed.

“How do  _ you  _ want you?” Rosa replied, realizing she definitely should have done this a long time ago. An excuse to stare at Maria? Yes! Much better than drawing her sister, who squirmed only slightly less than her brother, which was the reason she chose her. “The only rules are it needs to be from the waist up, we can do our own style for this one, and you know I’m kinda pop-art abstract-y, so it may not even look like you. But I’ll draw a real one of you, too, like for your mom or something, if you want. Any time.” 

“Okay!” Maria turned away, scanning her room, then scrambled around to set her pillows and things up in such a way she could recline against her headboard comfortably, for however long Rosa needed. She sat mostly upright, crossed her legs at the knee, and as a final touch draped her arm across the stack of pillows to her right. 

“This okay? Too basic?”

“I love it! Why don’t you turn and I’ll get your hips, too. Yes! Gorge!” Rosa had pulled out her pencils (of course she had those) and scribbled furiously, trying to get the outline of her quickly before realizing she didn’t have to rush. This was…nice. “Maybe I should draw you on a big rainbow, or something more metal. A stormcloud?” 

“Hell yeah. Do you know how bad I’ve wanted to be Storm, like, my entire life? Give me badass lightning powers.”

“Oh my God, yes! No white hair though, your hair is great,” Rosa said, already drawing it, like, eight feet long. 

Rosa’s style was wild, eclectic, electric, just like her. Maria didn’t know how she would turn out in the slightest, and that anticipation was the best part.

And Rosa was fascinating, brilliant at work, too. The fall of her hair, the quick, precise movements of her hands, the darting of her eyes up and down…

It was easy to stay still. Maria was mesmerized.

“Yes! Ugh, you’re gorgeous. Okay, detail on the face now. Give me the smolder. Smolder! Yes! Uuuuuugh Mariaaaaaaa,” Rosa said, mesmerized herself. 

After a few more minutes, she was done. It was quick, and kind of sloppy in places, but she had spent ten minutes at least on the eyes, and they were a focal point of the image, with lightning coming out of them. 

“You kinda look like Zeus, actually. Or Xena. I gave you a slutty toga!” Rosa said, sitting on Maria’s bed to show her. 

“Everyone needs a slutty toga,” Maria agreed, but when she laid eyes on the drawing, she went quiet. It—it didn’t even look like her, not really, because this couldn’t be how Rosa saw her. Maria didn’t know if she wanted to kiss her or burst into tears over it, so she just croaked out a “Wow, it’s really good,” and leaned into the warmth of Rosa beside her.

“Well, it’s yours, once I turn it in and get it back,” Rosa said, flushing a little, and grinning. She kind of wanted to lean in and kiss Maria’s cheek, but refrained. Girls could get away with a lot more between friends than guys could, or girls and guys, but still Rosa didn’t want to go too far. “I’ll do a nice one, too. Now I’m sleepy!” 

Rosa tucked the sketchbook into her backpack and flopped back down on Maria’s bed. They used to share it when they were smaller, though now Maria had a trundle bed that pulled out from the bottom, which was where Rosa was actually going to sleep. 

But they could cuddle before then. “Wow, it’s almost midnight. Sorry, man. You’re the best model.” 

“You did all that in under an hour. You’re the best artist,” Maria said shyly, sliding down the bed to lie beside Rosa. “Mom’ll probably be by soon to yell at us to turn the light off.”

“She must have sensed we were doing homework, or she’d have bugged us already,” Rosa said, rolling onto her side to make room for Maria and curling around her a little. “I owe you. I could do your history homework, if you don’t mind all the answers being wrong.” 

“Nah, it’s fine. We both want Liz to keep talking to us, right?”

“Ugh, she’s such a square!” Rosa said. 

They both giggled at that, then after a few minutes Maria reached over Rosa and turned the lamp off herself, plunging them both into darkness.

In the dark, it was easier to speak.

“You don’t have to sleep on the trundle if you don’t want to,” Maria whispered.

“Good, I’m not moving,” Rosa said, and went right to sleep. 

…

Only a couple hours later, Maria jolted awake, gasping in air so hard and fast she might have been drowning. The air came right back out on a sob, and she clamped her hand over her mouth, hoping it wasn’t too late to not wake Rosa, who was a soft shape beside her in the darkness. Maria had turned away from her in the grip of the nightmare, but she turned back now, to check that she was still there, warm and breathing and alive.

“Fuck,” she whispered to herself.

The nightmares had been going on for weeks now, worrying but not anything Maria was able to dwell on, not when she couldn’t remember them at all. But she remembered this one.

Rosa, suspended three feet above the air, feet kicking, something written on her hand, something she couldn’t quite read, and she was lit by some glow that came from the cave itself, and the man holding her up was—was—

Maria sobbed again, burying her face in her shirt, like she could hide from the sight of it inside her mind.

Rosa was drawn to wakefulness slowly. She had been in a deep sleep, but the sound of crying usually woke her up, and this was no different. She flung her arm out, sleep-heavy, wrapping it around—Maria? Yes it was Maria who was crying in her bed—in Maria's bed, which she was kindly sharing—not Liz. "Mm-Maria? Wass wrong, chica?"

“R-Rosa,” Maria sobbed, and it took a long while before she could pull herself together enough to talk. 

It was just past 2:30 in the morning according to the clock. She wanted to say it was just a bad dream, that Rosa should go back to sleep. But it didn’t feel like that. Not at all.

“I saw you die,” Maria said. “I mean, I had a nightmare, but it wasn’t a nightmare, and you—you—”

"Whoa, hey, heyy," Rosa said, rolling over bodily and pulling Maria against her chest, running fingers through her hair like she would for Liz. "It's just a nightmare. I'm going out in a coke induced adrenaline rager on my thirtieth birthday, remember? Or, like, jumping out of a plane. Or shot by the cops protesting for civil rights, or wrestling an alligator. Did you dream about any of those?" Rosa asked, trying to make Maria laugh. 

It didn’t work.

“No! You were high, I could smell it, and went exploring out in the desert alone, and found a new cave, and there was this  _ man  _ in there, and he looked all—wrong—and there was this weird light, and then he—he—”

She dissolved into sobs again.

"Whoa, shit, how do you know about my cave?" Rosa demanded, coming fully awake, though her anger softened because Maria was like really crying. 

“You mean you  _ do  _ spend your time wandering around strange desert caves? Rosa!” Maria cried. “You have to stop! You have to!”

"Oh my God, Maria," Rosa laughed. "You're scaring me. Come on, I thought you were cool. I'll take you to the caves sometime, you don't have to sneak around."

“I saw you  _ die! _ ” Maria repeated. “I’m the one who’s scared! I don’t care about you sneaking out—or stupid caves—I care that I saw you  _ die  _ and it felt  _ real!  _ And you don’t even believe me.”

"No, no, okay, okay," Rosa said, hugging Maria tight, wrapping arms and legs around her. The problem was Rosa  _ did _ believe her—her brother was an alien, after all, so premonitory nightmares? Not so far fetched. Especially since Maria's mom was kinda psychic, so, that tracked. "I believe you. I just don't want to believe you."

“Just please be careful,” Maria whispered into Rosa’s shoulder, squeezing her tight in return. “ _ Careful- _ careful, not Rosa careful.”

"Oh like Maria-careful is better?" Rosa chuckled, kissing Maria's hair: it was a big sister kiss, not really the kind of kiss she wanted to give Maria, but it was good enough for now. "I'll need to go get my stuff from the caves. I promise I'll take you with me, okay?"

“Okay. And I’ll be more careful right along with you, okay? You don’t have to be alone, Rosa. ‘What Would Liz Do’ can be  _ both  _ of our new mottos.”

Rosa laughed. "God help us."

…

Maria knew that she had to tell her mother about her latest nightmare, but that was easier known than done. The thought of reliving it in the telling sucked, but the thought of how worried her mom would be sucked harder. 

So it took a long time, a long time of nothing happening to Rosa, of stumbling through schoolwork due to distraction, of worried looks from Liz and Alex and Michael, before she said anything.

And when she did, she started with “Mom, please don’t be mad,” which was never a good way to start.

“Oh, my God, you’re pregnant,” Mimi DeLuca said, setting down the dish she was washing, not handing it to Maria to dry. 

“No! Oh my god, Mom!” Maria shrilled.

“I had you when I was a teenager, you can’t blame me for worrying,” Mimi said, leaning down to kiss Maria’s forehead, her heavy flower necklace knocking into Maria’s shoulder. “But I think you have a pretty healthy ‘boys are stupid’ attitude, which I applaud. Boys  _ are _ stupid. So what am I supposed to be mad about?” 

Mimi went back to washing dishes. 

Maria twisted the dish towel in her hands. “I...I had a nightmare. And I remembered it this time. It was really scary, a-and weird, and it felt so real...I know you were worried about me, and I didn’t keep it from you on purpose, I just...didn’t know how to talk about it.”

“Oh, baby,” Mimi said, setting down the dishes again and drying her hands so she could rest her hands on Maria’s shoulders. “Well, I’m definitely not mad. Let’s sit down and figure out a way for you to talk to me about it, okay?” 

Mimi drew Maria to their kitchen table, and they sat down catty-corner from each other, holding hands, as they did for all their mother-daughter talks. “You want some tea, baby?” 

Maria nodded, and the familiar sight of Mimi moving around the kitchen to make the tea calmed her down somewhat, even more so when she had the mug in her hands, warming her up, the sweet-smelling steam filling her lungs.

“Thanks, Mama,” she said softly.

"You're welcome, baby," Mimi said, sipping her own cup of tea. "Now what was scary about this one? Was it because you remembered it?"

“Yeah. But it was also because…there was this man, but he looked  _ strange,  _ like he was glowing, but also like he was...slimy? Like he had  _ melted  _ a little bit. And he was...he was ch-choking Rosa…” She cut off and took a gulp of tea, not wanting to tell any more.

“Well, that’s no good,” Mimi said, sounding sympathetic when she was actually just worried, setting her tea down and pulling Maria into her lap. “What did the man look like? Why did he glow? Why was he melty? Do you think you might have dreamed about zombies, or aliens?” 

“I didn’t get a good look at his face. He was pale, but not like he was  _ supposed  _ to be, more like...like he’d been underground his entire life, never seeing the sun. And there was something on his skin, too. I don’t know why he was melty. It didn’t look like—like burn scars or anything, more like wax. The glow was all around the cave, not just him. Not zombies. Maybe aliens. But that would be stupid, right? That means it was just a dream?”

"They're always just dreams, baby," Mimi promised. "But dreams always got a little truth in them. A little more truth in the DeLuca family, I think." 

Mimi pulled Maria against her, petting her hair. "Did you talk to Rosa about it?"

“Yeah, it was the night she slept over. I don’t know if she believed me, though.” She buried her face in her mom’s shoulder and hiccuped. “I’m really scared for her, Mama.”

Mimi nodded. "You're a wise woman. I don't think you'd be scared without a reason. Maybe we could talk to her together." Mimi paused, wondering if… "What was glowing, baby?" 

“Something in the center of the cave. It made the whole place look like it was glowing, and it wasn’t very bright. I didn’t get a good look at it...I was focused on Rosa. Maybe...Maybe I’ll have the dream again and be able to tell you more?”

"Sometimes that happens," Mimi says, "but when it does you be careful. We think it means the stars really want to align a certain way, and we have to be extra-careful of all the clues they give us. Just remember there's one thing a lot more powerful than the stars."

“Is it the power of love?” Maria asked, pulling back with her arms around her mother’s neck and grinning at her.

Mimi grinned and kissed Maria's nose. She was strictly too old for this, but in a moment like this where she needed comfort, they didn't have to tell anyone. "No, sweetheart. You.  _ You _ are more powerful than the stars."


	10. Chapter 10

“Dude, I am  _ not  _ going to throw balls at you!”

“C’mon, Max, work out some of that pent up aggression! I gotta get in shape if I wanna impress the ladies with—”

“—With the super-secret superpowers you can’t ever show them?”

“Hell, yeah. I’m a man of mystery.”

“You’re a massive fucking dork.”

“Gimme your best fastball!”

Michael’s goading succeeded in getting Max to throw the baseball vaguely in his direction, but it smacked limply into the ground two feet from him. Isobel burst out into laughter, and Michael grabbed the ball with his mind and lobbed it back in Max’s direction hard enough to sting his hand.

“C’mon, Evans, I know you can do better than that.”

“Don’t  _ bully  _ me, you’re such a jerk, Michael!” Max grumped, as only a not-actually-bullied fourteen-year-old could grump, and he picked up the ball and threw it at Michael’s head. 

“Woo!” Isobel cried, laughing and jumping up and down, thrilled either at the prospect of violence or at a display of Michael’s powers, which she had already declared, long ago, to be objectively the coolest among them. 

Michael still had to work on resisting the urge to duck when something came flying at his face, but he still threw out a hand and managed to stop the ball in midair, just inches from where his nose was a second ago. Then he sent it back to Max again, bobbing gently this time and dropping neatly into his hand.

“Ha!” Michael crowed. “Do it again!”

Max, quick to forgive, was already grinning. “Yeah! Here it comes!” 

“You know, I ain’t payin’ you to socialize, Ortecho,” Sanders growled, coming up behind Isobel and making her genuinely shriek. 

Michael jumped too, and Max’s next throw nailed him in the shoulder.

“Mr. Sanders!” He yelped, then recovered and gave Sanders a grin like butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth. “Y’know, you don’t really pay me at all, technically. Maybe if you did I’d find less time for goofin’ off.”

“You’ve got a smart mouth.” Sanders looked up at Max. “Hit him there next.”

But there was humor in his voice, even if Michael was the only one of the kids who laughed at it.

"Sure, Mr. Sanders, sir," Max said uncertainly, folding like a cheap suit. "O-only I wasn't throwing  _ at _ him, I was, we were playing catch."

"Huh," was all Sanders said. 

Isobel rolled her eyes where Sanders couldn’t see her, and both boys felt a twinge through their mental link like Isobel had flicked them both in the forehead.

“Anyway, what’s up, Sanders? You’re not usually here at this time of day unless there’s a special project.”

“Oh, here and there. You never know who’ll be around,” Sanders said, shuffling off again. 

Isobel rounded on Michael, hissing, “He knows our secret! I think he saw you!” 

Max’s face went whitish-gray, and he dropped the baseball like it burned him 

“No, no,” Michael said. “Sanders is mostly blind and drunk more often than he’s not. If he says anything I’ll just tell him I’ve got a really good curveball, okay?” He hastily changed the subject. “Max, Liz wants to know if you’re coming to Maria’s party this weekend.”

Max had recovered enough to be righteously indignant. “Michael, you said you would be  _ careful— _ ”

“Hey, whoa,” Isobel snapped, and literally snapped her fingers to go along with it, “you were literally just messing around, too, Max, don’t even.” 

She folded her arms and tried to look mysterious and all-knowing as she stared after the old man. “Though—I couldn’t get a good read on him, but he knows  _ something _ . Something before today.” 

“Maybe  _ Isobel  _ should be careful,” Michael said mulishly. “Do we even know if people can feel you poking their brains? Leave Sanders alone, he’s cool.”

“Cool like Rosa’s cool?” Isobel said. “Michael, you can’t just  _ tell _ everyone you think is ‘cool’ that you’re an alien!”

“I’m not! And I thought we were over the Rosa thing, don’t make me fight you—”

“Alright, alright, you guys, settle down,” Max said. 

Isobel and Michael may have smiled at each other: the only way to get Max to stop spiraling was, sometimes, to fight with each other enough to make him feel the need to break it up. They had a good system worked out. 

“Nobody’s going to fight anyone,” Max declared. “Just—we should all be more careful, is all. We’re safer with just the three of us. And our secret gets out by accident often enough, apparently, we don’t need to tell anyone.” 

Max picked up the baseball and tossed it into the open window of ‘Michael’s truck’—the junker that didn’t even run—to indicate game over. 

Michael shoved his hands in his pockets and suppressed the urge to start  _ another  _ fight over Max’s passive aggressive tone. He went with take two of distracting Max with Liz instead.

“Fine. Seriously, though, Max, are you coming to Maria’s party? Isobel already promised to come even just to annoy Rosa.”

“Rosa  _ loves _ me,” Isobel said with confidence. She looked away from both boys and began picking the paint off some rusted piece of equipment casually. “And where there’s a Rosa and a Maria there’s usually an Alex and a  _ Liz… _ ” 

“Yes, I’m coming,” Max said, like he could be casual about it and like he wouldn’t take any chance he was given to talk to Liz.

But there was something in the way Isobel mentioned Alex’s name, too, that had Michael blushing was even more swiftly and virulently than Max.

“Obviously  _ I’m  _ already going,” he snapped.

“What did I say?” Isobel replied, all innocence.

…

“I’m saying we should start a girl group,” Isobel said, returning with fresh cups of sprite for Rosa and Maria. 

_ Jurassic Park _ was on, and Rosa sat in the back like the cool kid she was while the more excitable little puppies had to sit like six inches from the TV. Liz and Michael were in an argument about the scientific vs. ethical implications of the film, and Max and Alex were getting involved—oddly, on the same side, which they could tell was weird for both of them. 

“What, like a not-a-nerd girl group?” Rosa asked. 

“Do you even play an instrument? Or sing?” Maria asked.

“She can learn bass. Anyone can learn bass.”

“Hey!”

Isobel didn’t really know enough about music to know  _ why  _ she was offended, just enough to know that she was. Rosa and Maria both laughed good-naturedly, though, so Isobel only pouted for a second before joining in.

"I can  _ dance _ . All the rest is lipsynced and autotuned. And anyway I didn't mean the Spice Girls, I meant like, a gang. A posse. A clique."

Isobel had cliques up the wazoo. She was kind of a collector of friend groups. You never knew when you would need an ally. Sure, she wasn’t  _ close _ friends with like, anyone...but, hey. Maybe this was her shot at that. 

Maria was ready to turn her nose up at the notion of cliques, but Rosa nudged her. She still felt a sense of loyalty to Isobel after her quick save at the Long party; she knew now how useful Isobel could be. Plus, however reluctant she might be, she wanted to make an effort to room in her life for Michael’s alien family. 

“Sure, Evans, I’ll be in your gang. Teach you how to live dangerously. Scare your parents just the right amount. And you can teach me how to bring brownies from a box to the bake sale and the right way to ask for a manager when my coupon is expired.”

"Funny, DeLuca,” Isobel glared. 

"But true," Rosa agreed. "Their washing machine has more settings than a car. But yeah, you can hang with us. They also have like a whole home movie theater in their basement, Maria! The TV is huge!” 

Isobel huffed, but she smiled too, and sank back against the couch cushions. “See. I come with a benefits package.” 

It’d be nice if they could get any actual movie-watching time in over the continued bickering of Liz, Max, Alex, and Michael, but it didn’t seem like that would be the case.

“The scientists spent the whole time caught up in what they  _ could  _ do and never stopped to think about what they  _ should  _ do! The movie outright says it!” Max was saying, an emphatic arm thrown out toward the screen.

“Obviously the way the dinosaurs got out was stupid, and their security should have been way better, but they weren’t  _ wrong  _ to resurrect the dinosaurs—if you could bring back other extinct animals, or stop pandas for going extinct altogether, wouldn’t you?” Liz fired back.

“Also, dinosaurs are cool,” Michael added.

“But dinosaurs died for a reason; the earth’s ecosystems couldn’t support them anymore. Do people have a right to change the entire course of nature just because they figure out how?” Alex asked, all seriousness.

Max gaped at Alex with a new appreciation. “Right! See, what he said!” 

_ God these kids are exhausting _ , Rosa thought.

“Max, Isobel!” Mimi called from the kitchen. “Your mom’s on the phone!” 

Max leapt up; Isobel more reluctantly. 

“Michael, can you help me with something?” Mimi added. 

The three of them exchanged glances, worry and fear pinging between them, but Michael slowly got up too and the three of them headed into the kitchen.

When they got there, Mimi was sitting at the kitchen table, and she wasn’t holding a phone.

“What’s going on?” Max said, and even though his voice trembled he stepped in front of his siblings.

“I’m afraid there are some things we need to talk about,” she said heavily. “Jim will be here soon. Go ahead and sit, okay?”

Isobel opened her mouth to speak, but Mimi cut her off.

“I already know, Isobel. I’ve known for longer than you kids have, the same as Jim. It’s okay.”

“Then why didn’t you say anything?” Michael demanded, a tinge of hurt in his voice. 

“Because I thought it would be easier. For all of us. Some things are as dangerous for the knower as they are for the known. Please, sit down.”

When Jim arrived with six pizzas in tow, Michael, Max, and Isobel nearly choked with laughter, because he was dressed in a Pizza Hut uniform and hat. 

“Sorry, guys, I wanted to make sure I wasn’t followed,” Jim said, taking off the hat. 

“Who’s gonna follow  _ you _ ?” Isobel asked, highly doubting all of this.

“Maybe he’s lying,” Michael said with undisguised glee, “maybe they finally fired him.”

Max looked steely, unwilling to say anything. 

Jim sat at the table beside Mimi. They exchanged a look, and then Mimi spoke.

“When you first came to Roswell, Michael, Jim told you that you should stay away from Jesse Manes. And you passed that message on to your siblings, and the three of you have done an excellent job of not drawing attention to yourselves. But something has changed.”

“Do you have any idea why Sergeant Jesse Manes would be searching the caves out by Foster’s Ranch?” Jim asked, watching them each carefully: 

Not Isobel; she gave nothing away, unimpressed with the whole interrogation. 

Max was clearly alarmed by the questions and perked up about the caves at Foster’s Ranch, but had a determined look about him, like wild horses would have to drag the truth out of him. 

Michael, on the other hand, spoke up.

“Three years ago, we all had the same dream and it led us out to one of the caves. The opening to an old, collapsed turquoise mine, I think. There, we found three big...stasis pods, or escape pods, or something. We  _ felt  _ like they were the pods we came out of when we were seven. One for each of us.”

Max made a scandalized noise.

“What?” Michael snapped. “They know more than we do, and they already know what we are. What good is keeping secrets?”

“We pushed them as far back into the cave as we could and covered up the entrance,” Isobel said. “The pods, I mean. So, that’s it. What would he even want with them?”

Jim and Mimi looked at each other. “He’d be after any alien tech,” Jim confirmed, slowly. 

“Maria had a nightmare about Rosa and those caves,” Mimi added. 

“ _ Rosa _ ?” Michael demanded. 

Mimi nodded, mouth tight. “There was a man there, in her dream. It could be Jesse, the dream wasn’t really clear. And a glow...do these pods glow?” 

“Could you take us to these pods?” Jim asked. “We’re worried about what Jesse’s up to. And we’re worried about Rosa. 

The three kids exchanged looks. Max’s dread was thick and uneasy in all their heads, and as much as Michael and Isobel tried to comfort him, it was easy to be pulled under. They were all afraid. But they had to do something. Still, they looked to Max to make the decision.

“What if I was in trouble, Max?” Isobel asked quietly, but not at all timidly. 

“If Rosa’s in danger…” Max said, knowing Michael’s urgent, nerve-sawing need, “If she’s in danger, we’ll do anything we can. We’ll show you.”

“If,” Isobel said, surprising them all by taking charge of the situation, “you let me into your minds to make sure you’re telling the truth.” 

Jim looked surprised. “ _ That’s _ one of your powers? Why didn’t you try that on me years ago?”

“Because I decided to spare you,” Isobel said haughtily, at the same time Michael said, “Because she couldn’t do it then.”

Isobel glared at him, then reached out to take first Jim’s hand and then Mimi’s. After a couple minutes with each, she nodded, looking ill, and Max ran off to the bathroom to find some acetone for her. Both boys could feel that Isobel had found nothing but truth, but they still sat in grim silence until Isobel had gulped some down and could speak again.

Michael was the first one to talk. “What happens if Manes comes for us? What should we do?”

“The same thing I told you to do when you first came here. You fight him however you can and you get away from him,” Jim said. 

...

As the adults sent Michael and the Evanses back to the movie, Alex ducked back down the hall, escaping to the bathroom to think about what he overheard. 

These were the things Alex knew to be true:

  1. He hated his dad, and his dad hated him. 
  2. His dad hated and believed in aliens.
  3. Michael, Max, and Isobel were aliens.
  4. Mimi and Jim wouldn’t lie to anyone. 
  5. Mimi and Jim spoke to Michael, Max, and Isobel warning them of the danger his dad posed to them as aliens. 
  6. Alex would do anything for Michael.



When Alex exited the bathroom, it was with a new mission: to stop his father from hurting anyone, especially Michael Ortecho. 

…

Scouring the desert was hot, dusty work, but Jesse Manes didn’t mind it. Relished it, even, like each drop of sweat was proof of righteousness, his goal made manifest in struggle. 

The caves and old mines around Roswell snaked through the earth for miles, infested with scorpions and snakes and other forms of vermin. Jesse had meant for many years to organize a sweep of them like there hadn’t been since the hunting years right after ‘47, when stragglers still had numbers. Yet again and again he turned his gaze inward, preoccupied with false faces, false neighbors, like the women who ruined his uncle Tripp. It was hubris, or simple tactical inadequacy, like the shoddy work done by his predecessors that let three children go undiscovered. He would not be making that mistake again.

He might not be able to get to the children now, not without proof of what they were, proof for their unwitting families that they were raising cuckoos in their nests. Not with Deluca and Valenti standing in his way— _ both  _ Valentis, as it was the sheriff who sent him in all directions chasing false reports of frightening strangers, as if the promises he made to her husband years ago somehow didn’t extend to her as well. 

Jesse was trained up to value bravery and honor, but his adulthood had taught him that the brave were more often than not very, very stupid. 

He mopped his brow and hauled himself back behind the wheel of his vehicle. He had one more point on the grid to check before his day was over, a hole in the rock mostly covered by rubble that had to be hauled away before he could pull himself through—

—and into the light.

Because light emanated from the back of the cave, the familiar ambient glow of alien technology. Like the shattered pieces of a spaceship in all his grandfather’s photos, like the rows and rows of inert, teardrop-shaped vessels that had sat for decades in warehouse, some broken, some whole, but all resistant to all attempts to breach them.

Except this one wasn’t empty.

Jesse sucked in a sharp, triumphant breath, and it tasted like rain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pictured, Left: _Roswell, New Mexico_ ; Right, _Roswell, New Mexico_ if people actually talked to each other and shared plot-relevant information.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning this chapter for child abuse (off-screen, implied), homophobia (from kyle, thanks kyle), and brief, canon-typical suicidal ideation (from alex), mentions of alien imprisonment and experimentation (all that good Caulfield stuff), and some misogynist language but i guess that ranks pretty low in the scheme of things

Alex was used to sneaking around his dad and his house, so his new mission didn’t change all that much about his day to day life. Alex did try to be more observant, but Jesse was careful, of course, so he had to go actively looking for information rather than just hoping to passively discover some. 

He hit the jackpot when Jesse got a phone call while working in his office and took it outside, leaving the door to his office open. 

Normally it was locked. Classified, Jesse always told them. Never too young to learn about the sanctity of classified documentation. 

Of course, Alex had learned since then that it was illegal to take classified documents home from any legitimate source—government or military—so whatever Jesse had in there  _ wasn’t  _ legitimate. Armed with his alibi and a distraction tactic if that didn’t work, Alex started going through the papers, careful to touch as little as possible and put back anything he did touch, ears on alert for any sounds. 

He didn’t dare take any pictures but committed to memory all he could:

_ Project Shepherd _ was on a lot of the documents. A person named  _ Caulfield _ came up a few times. Some documents from 1947, a few with Grandpa Harlan’s name on them, and Great-Uncle Tripp. Then there was a sheet of—of specimen numbers, but a few of them were listed as  _ names _ . Alex didn’t understand a lot of this, but he got a sick feeling in his stomach just looking at it. He had just noticed a column that read “Cell No.” and was beginning to realize that these were  _ not  _ referring to mobile telephone numbers when there were footsteps in the hall. 

“Shit!” he hissed, and threw himself on the ground, making no effort to hide the sound, and grasping his remote control car, revving the engine, knowing it was probably the final time he’d ever get to rev it.  _ Project Shepherd _ , he repeated in his head, committing it to memory and hoping his dad wouldn’t give him a concussion.  _ Caulfield. Specimens numbered S001-S067. Nora Truman. Cell Number N...37? No, shit, what was it. N-41? _ He dropped his car, making it speed away again. “Whoops, shit!” 

Jesse picked up the car.

“Isn’t this your brother’s?” He asked lightly. He didn’t bother specifying which one, just crossed the room and put it in one of the desk drawers. Then he sat behind the desk, not caring that it put Alex out of his line of sight.

“No!” Alex said petulantly, deliberately copping an attitude, so terrified of getting in trouble for what he was actually doing that he hoped he would get into trouble for something he wasn’t. “That’s mine, Dad!” 

“You’ve always pushed harder than your brothers,” Jesse said, ignoring Alex’s tone. “And I have allowed it to go on because I respect that when a man is smaller, weaker, and stupider than his comrades, he uses whatever tools are at his disposal to make himself stand out. But when I told you and your brothers that my office was classified, was it not a direct order?”

“Thought I would be faster than your phone call,” Alex said quietly, glowering, teeth clenched in silent rage because that, at least, was true. He should have been faster, and he was only sorry he wasn’t. “Anyway, an entire  _ office  _ can’t be classified, only information can.”

“That’s not an answer to my question.”

“Well, I’m not going to follow your orders blindly. How’s that for an answer?” Alex backed up a little bit, continuing, “The only reason Greg and Flint don’t want in here is because they know you keep your porn mags in a box under your bed…” 

Jesse just nodded, and when he spoke again it was in the same neutral tone. “You’re getting older, son,” he said, “And there are certain forms of rebellion that won’t be tolerated. Take a seat.”

* * *

Maria had seen a vision of Rosa dying, an alien-hating maniac had it out for Michael and his siblings, and still Michael was supposed to go to school and pay attention in Social Studies. 

Well fuck that.

He doodled his hundredth star in the margin of his notes in between glances at the clock. Every half an hour, the alien siblings shook the mental link to make sure they were all still there, like calling for each other down tin cans and string. This was the only period all three of them were separate, and the anxiety was almost too much to bear. The second the bell rang, Michael rushed out of the classroom so they had a brief moment with Isobel before he and Max had to go on to Biology.

Max hesitated like he wanted to retake his seat beside Michael, but Michael shook his head minutely. It would just draw more attention. Also, Max did better when he was near Liz. 

His thoughts left Max entirely, though, when Alex walked into the room, barely making it in before the bell. He held himself strange. Wrong. Like he was hurt. Fury and pain shot through Michael so fierce and hot Max shot him a shocked look and it took every  _ ounce  _ of control Michael had ever learned not to send desks and books flying away from him, between him, Alex, and the rest of the room, so they were protected and safe. 

The second the teacher did attendance and turned back to the board, Michael scribbled out a note and slid it to Alex.

_ Are you okay? Who do I have to kill? _

Alex just shook his head, waving him off and smiling tightly. After what he had learned about his father and about Michael in the past few days, he was a little too happy to wish his father dead and to believe Michael actually could physically kill him. So he gave Michael a thumbs up and a genuine smile, trying to pay attention. He  _ really  _ needed those good grades and scholarships. Dumbest of his brothers, yeah, right. 

It was good to see him, here in the flesh and not just an idea of him he held onto when his dad made him wish he was somewhere else.

Michael crumpled his note in his pocket and sunk down in his chair. Alex’s smile usually made him feel better, but seeing it now, in that wan, pale face, only made him feel worse, more useless. 

Biology, like Social Studies, proved impossible to pay attention to, and the bell was sweet relief when it finally rang. Michael planned to eat with his siblings, but he couldn’t leave Alex alone, not like this—but when he turned to invite him, he was already gone.

Before Max could even catch up with him, Michael ran after Alex, even though by now he’d disappeared into the crush of people in the hallway. Michael knew where to find him.

He went straight outside and mounted the bleachers at a run, not caring if Alex heard him coming. Sweeping the branches of the tree aside, he tucked himself into the small space, branches scraping his skin, and he turned to Alex, sitting hunched and stunned.

“Hey.”

“Hi,” Alex said, smiling tiredly at Michael. “You wanna sit down?” 

Alex wasn’t eating a lunch. Without saying anything, Michael sat, pulled out his own lunch and handed it to Alex. 

“I-it’s fine, I’m not really hungry,” Alex said, unsteadily, because he  _ wasn’t _ , but he also recognized that he was getting weak from hunger at this point, and that was worse. “Can we split it?” 

“Yeah, of course. You just eat half and hand it over when you’re done. I only have one set of utensils.”

So maybe Alex didn’t want to talk about it. Michael knew so, so well what it was to not want to talk about it. No matter how much he  _ needed  _ to know, to know what to say, to say something to make it better, this was about Alex, what  _ he  _ needed. So Michael just pressed their shoulders together, carefully in case Alex was hurt there, and told Max and Isobel he wouldn’t be eating with them after all.

“I’ll look over your Bio notes if you take my English,” he said. “I know I missed some stuff last week. Romeo and Juliet is hard.”

“ _ Romeo and Juliet _ is easy. They’re fourteen and heteros,” Alex said bitterly, before he realized that might sound rude—on several levels. “But, yeah, thanks. That’s a fair trade. My—my head wasn’t in the parts of the cell today. Are you okay? Are your siblings okay? You seem upset.” 

“Yeah, um, just family stuff. Weird birth family stuff, that is, the Ortechos are fine. And so are the Evanses, as far as I know. But Alex…” He pressed himself closer, as close as he could. “You don’t have to tell me what happened. But if I can go to the nurse and get an ice pack, or some tylenol, or anything…”

“Oh, Michael,” Alex said, setting aside the food—oh,  _ yum _ , rice and beans with cheese and peppers, nice and spicy, God, he could eat this whole thing, his appetite back in full force—and laying a hand on the back of Michael’s neck. It felt so good just to touch him, to be near him, breathing in the clear rain-smelling scent of him, that moving his arm like that didn’t even hurt. “I’m okay, really. Going to the nurse will just make it worse in the long run, you know how…”

“Yeah,” Michael said, cutting him off. He did know how it worked. 

“I seriously might demolish this, though, oh my  _ God _ ,” Alex laughed, trying to change the subject, anything to make Michael smile. That was better than the baby aspirin they’d give him if he went to the nurse. 

“You can seriously have it,” Michael said, not pushing. “I mean it, Arturo makes big breakfasts too. I can get something from the vending machine later if I get hungry.”

He tried not to stare at Alex eating, because that would be weird and creepy, but he couldn’t help himself from glancing over again and again to check on him. His chest felt tight and achey. Knowing what had probably happened—knowing what he did about Alex’s asshole of a father—Michael felt both too young and impossibly old all at the same time.

“Soon,” he blurted out, “I know it’s still too far away, but we’re getting so close, okay? We’re gonna get out of here. Together.”

“Yeah,” Alex said, and had to set down the fork and swallow hard and breathe in to keep from—crying? Puking? Saying fuck the entire world and kissing Michael in his stupid sweet face? He added in a whisper, knowing he didn’t want the universe to hear it: “I mean I—being with you makes me feel like I’ve already gotten out.” 

“Alex…” Michael breathed.

He leaned in closer, drawn magnetically, cosmically, to Alex’s dark, unlined eyes, his chapped lips, and he still didn’t know, what he was doing or what he wanted, he just knew...Alex.

And Alex leaned in, too,  _ aching _ , just for a touch...

They were only a couple inches apart when the bell rang out, harsh and shrill and cruel. 

Michael almost jumped out of his skin, almost tumbled off the back of the bleachers and had to use his powers to catch himself.

“Whoa!” Alex cried, heart pounding, pretending he didn’t see anything unusual like he was pretending he hadn’t been about to kiss Michael Ortecho.  _ Fuck that bell _ . He didn’t know whether he was enraged or grateful. “You okay? Jesus.” 

“I—I—” He couldn’t leave Alex, he couldn’t just  _ leave  _ him, but this little hideout between the branches suddenly felt too close, claustrophobic, and he couldn’t breathe, and Max and Isobel were calling him worried that he hadn’t come to meet them. “I’ll see you later,” he said, lamely, and then he was gone. 

“Right. Sure,” Alex said, still holding Michael’s lunch, which neither of them ate very much of. 

He packed the food up, carefully, his anger turned inward now, like, God, did he really try to go in for a kiss with his  _ friend _ ?! Is that what just happened? And Michael, the one he was trying to protect, had just run out on him? It was almost providence when Kyle Fucking Valenti showed up, as Alex was debating whether he should just head to Mexico now. 

“Thought I might find you here,” Kyle said, hands shoved in his pockets like a douchebag. “Where’s your girlfriend?”

“Kyle, I have never been less in the mood to talk to you right now,” Alex said, taking the bleachers one at a time and still hurting. He turned his back on him, walking—anywhere—away from the school. He should go talk to Jim or Mimi. What he wanted to do was find a bus to walk in front of—

“Whatever, Manes. I’m only here because there’s something up with our dads. I’m tired of your family trying to step all over mine. So why don’t you back the fuck off,” Kyle snapped. 

Alex reared to a halt, surprised by that, surprised even into being mean. There weren’t many people he could unleash his anger on, and starting on the football team as a freshman Kyle Valenti was one of them. “So you’re not here to throw slurs at me or whatever? You actually have something useful to say?” 

Kyle’s face turned ruddy with anger. “Whatever gross shit you get up to with Guerin is your own problem right now; I’m here to tell you that your dad has to stop threatening my family! Why’d you have to go and be gay anyway?”

“Well I’m sorry I didn’t ask your permission. And you don’t even know if I am, you just assumed because I didn’t want to kiss  _ one  _ girl.” 

“Well  _ aren’t  _ you?” 

Alex raised his chin defiantly. “Why, you asking me out, Valenti?” 

Kyle’s fists clenched. “Stop deflecting and tell me you’re going to do something about your fucking dad!”

“That’s  _ your dad’s _ fucking job, Kyle, and he can’t or won’t because your dad’s a pussy, or too busy chasing pussy to—”

With a shout, Kyle threw himself at Alex, knocking them both down a stair. They grappled, but Alex fought dirty, and he quickly had the upper hand, Kyle’s face ground into the cold metal even as he kicked back at Alex’s shins. Football practice gave Kyle plenty of training in getting out of a hold or a tackle, but Alex was ruthless, driving him harder into the bleachers, slamming him down when he tried to get up.

“HEY!” A voice boomed across the courtyard, and both boys looked up to see the assistant principal jogging towards them.

“Oh, fuck,” Kyle muttered.

* * *

“Do  _ not  _ call my dad,” Alex argued with the principal. “You have no right.” 

“Actually, I have every right to call him, Mr. Manes—” 

Alex lowered his voice, glaring intensely. “Just—wait til Jim Valenti gets here. Would you take the word of the head of CPS, huh?”

The Principal frowned. “Alex, are you telling me I should suspect your father of—of…?” 

“I’m not telling you anything,” Alex said. “I’m just asking you to wait for—” 

“Kyle? Alex? Boys, what’s this about a fight?” Jim asked, striding through the doors of the main office. 

“He started it,” Kyle said with a quickness Alex had to admire in an only child.

Jim felt a deep internal sigh, then he turned to the principal. “Do you mind giving me a moment alone with the boys?”

With a look at Alex that was half concern, half consternation, the principal nodded and left, closing the door behind her with a soft click.

“Alright. Now, tell me what happened. I’m not mad—I understand sometimes our temper gets the best of us. But a fistfight? While skipping class?”

“It was my fault, I started it,” Alex said morosely. “Just please don’t call my dad.”

Jim’s eyes widened and he took a careful look at Alex. He wasn’t obviously lying, but he had a haunted, thin look about him, and he wasn’t telling the whole truth. 

“He called you a pussy,” Kyle tattled, quite gladly. 

Jim’s gaze didn’t leave Alex. All Alex did was shift, miserable, eyes shining with unshed tears. Quietly, he said, “I...I didn’t think you’d stand up to my dad.” 

“It’s okay, Alex,” Jim said, gently, belying the heaviness he felt in how deeply this young man in front of him had changed from the boy who once looked up to him, and how deeply he had failed him to cause that.

Then Jim turned a steelier eye on his own son. “Is Alex telling the  _ whole  _ truth, Kyle? You didn’t do  _ anything  _ to start a fight?”

“I was just trying to make him toughen up, Dad,” Kyle said, crossing his arms in annoyance. “I didn’t want all the other kids bullying him, you know?” 

Jim watched Alex carefully through all of this. “Right now the only person I ever hear about bullying Alex is you, Kyle.” 

Kyle scoffed, loud and belligerent. Alex didn’t react at all. 

“Kyle, I want you to go back to class,” Jim said slowly. 

“Dad!”

Jim ignored him. “I’m gonna tell the Principal I think you should get some detention, whatever the penalty is for fighting at school—you and Alex, together. But I’m gonna ask her not to call your dad, Alex. Maybe some lunch detentions, so Sergeant Manes doesn’t need to find out.” 

Alex seemed to shrink even more, and he muttered something that might have been a thank you, but Jim didn’t feel the need to know for sure. He stepped outside for a quick word with the principal, assured her things were under control, and got a little official to get permission to take Alex out for the rest of the day.

While Alex waited for him in the office, Jim took Kyle aside.

“Kyle, I don’t know what happened to break your friendship, but whatever it was...you know how important nonviolent solutions are to your mother and I. Even if someone insults you, or your family, or your values, even if it seems like your only options are to be stepped on or to step on someone else, there is always another option. You just have to be brave enough to find it. Do you understand me?”

Kyle rolled his eyes, but didn’t say anything. This was a reaction Jim recognized—or hope he recognized—as Kyle’s ‘I’m listening and thinking about what you just said but I’m trying to look like I don’t care.’ 

“We’ll talk more when I get home, okay? I love you, son.” Jim went in for a hug, but Kyle didn’t reciprocate, just grabbed his backpack and went off to class. 

Alex dreaded what he was going to tell the school, guessing he was out for good, now.  _ A rabid queer attacked me on the bleachers, but I pounded him. Too scared to go home to his daddy now so the social worker is taking him out for ice cream until he stops crying from how hard I hit him. _

At least, that’s the story Alex would have told, if he hated Kyle as much as Kyle probably hated him. 

Jim came back in and gave Alex his kindest smile. Even if he’d failed in so many countless other ways, he could always try giving out a little kindness. And the other ace up his sleeve, of course—his go-to answer for all the hardest cases.

“Wanna grab a bite to eat?” He said.

Alex nodded only because that hurt less than shrugging. “I’m sorry I called you a pussy,” he whispered, not quite meeting his eyes. 

“Would you believe me if I said I’d had worse? Just the other day a lovely and intelligent young woman called me a ‘hobag,’ and that was right to my face.”

Alex cracked a smile at that. 

“It was a little sexist, though, so maybe we can tone that down if you’re going to insult me.” Jim had a brief debate with himself over whether he could get away with a hair ruffle and the verdict was that at worst he’d make Alex feel like a little kid, and maybe that was something Alex could use right now. So, slowly so as to give him a chance to pull away, Jim reached over and tousled Alex’s slightly-too-long hair.

“Hey,” Alex said, unconvincingly.

“Let’s blow this popsicle stand,” Jim said, one of those dad-isms that usually got him a groan. “I bet Arturo will be happy to see you.”

“We’re going to the Crashdown?” That was...probably the only place he could think of wanting to go right now, except for maybe Maria’s house to cry in Maria’s bed. But he wasn’t quite at give up and cry point, so the Crashdown sounded good. He was still hungry after being sent to bed without supper and refusing breakfast on principle, and definitely hungry for more of Mr. Ortecho’s cooking. “Good, because, um. I have to tell you something.” 

“I’m always ready to listen, kiddo,” Jim said, holding the door for him.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for discussions about Caulfield, child abuse, and homophobia in this chapter again, all canon-typical and off-screen

Alex didn’t speak, though, until they were safely tucked into one of the booths at the Crashdown and Arturo had come out of the kitchen personally to bring their drinks, take their orders, and fuss over Alex a little.

Jim smiled at Arturo, and Arturo nodded back, the worry for Alex palpable between them. 

Alex’s smile for Arturo was genuine, and grateful. He felt safe here. And God, he wanted to keep  _ them  _ safe, too. The moment Arturo was gone, Alex dropped the smile and leaned in. “Michael, Max and Isobel are in danger. I know what my dad’s doing. Er. Well, some of it. I looked at his papers.”

Jim choked on air and mostly succeeded in hiding it, but it was still several seconds before he managed to speak.

“ _ Alex,  _ that was incredibly dangerous. How did you—” But he sighed, because he already knew the answer. “You eavesdropped on us at the DeLucas’, didn’t you. Was it just you, or do Liz, Rosa, and Maria know too? Now, I’m not mad,” he assured him, “just—your safety is as important as your friends’, Alex, it’s very important that you understand that.”

“It was just me,” Alex said, annoyed that they were wasting time on  _ how _ he knew instead of what he knew. “I think my dad is working for some kind of alien prison, or something. There’s specimen names on there, and—and some people names, and cell numbers. Like jail cells. I think someone called Caulfield is in charge, does that name sound familiar to you?” 

“Jesus Christ,” Jim breathed, then said a quick prayer in his head, barely refraining from crossing himself even though he was way more lapsed than he’d ever been Catholic. “Okay. Okay. Here.” He pulled out a pen and pad and handed them to Alex. “Write down whatever you remember. And then you’re going to promise me you won’t do anything like that again.”

"I'm not writing it down! What, are you stupid?" Alex hissed. "That's all my dad needs is to find something like that on you, in my handwriting. He'd kill us both and they'd never find the bodies. Have you heard of Project Shepherd?"

Jim ran his hand through his hair, then over his face. He gulped down his water and wished dearly that it would turn into tequila on its way down.

“Yes, I’ve heard of it,” he said. “And so has my father, and his father before him. There’s a lot of history between our families, Alex.” 

Jim stared at the table as he tried to work out in real time how much to tell a fourteen year old child. 

“When the aliens crashed in ‘47, a lot of people were scared. On both sides. And then one of the aliens attacked and killed my grandfather, the local sheriff, who was advocating for peace against the local military. After that...it was a bloodbath. But not all the aliens were killed, and that’s where Caulfield comes in. It’s the name of a place, not a person. A terrible place.” Jim glanced up at Alex. “When I was just a little older than you, my father told me this story. The same day your grandfather told Jesse. We made the choice to carry on our families’ legacies at the same time. And it took me far too long for me to realize we were wrong, and always had been wrong.”

Alex gaped. “You...you  _ knew _ ?” 

He wanted to be angry.  _ You knew all this time and did nothing?! _ What if it were Michael in that prison, with a specimen number and not a name? 

But Alex was too tired of being disappointed today, and he really couldn’t blame Jim for being as afraid of Jesse as Alex was. God damn it. He was just going to have to take care of this himself. 

“Okay, what can you tell me about it, then? Have you ever been there? Where is it?” Alex asked, calmly, like they were two allies sharing information beneficial to them both. 

Jim responded kind but firm. “I’m not going to tell you.” 

He held up a hand to stop Alex’s immediate protests. “You’re right to wonder why I haven’t done more, fought harder. But here’s something I had to learn the hard way—you can fight, and fight, and fight, and you can defeat your enemies, but then the dust clears and you discover you still lost after all.” 

“Oh, believe me, I know,” Alex said darkly, furious again. 

Jim leaned back in the booth, considered Alex’s set, determined face, and pushed harder. “What if the next time you break into your father’s office, he goes after Maria and her mother? Or Liz and Rosa and Arturo?”

“Why would he do that?” Alex snapped. “They’re not involved…” 

He remembered Willow, the lizard his father had tried to kill to punish him, and he paused. That had been step one, maybe trying to teach him a lesson so he’d fall in line. 

Alex hadn’t learned it. 

“Way I see it, Mr. Valenti, either way, someone gets hurt.” 

“You’re right. But you’ll tell yourself you’re strong, willing to do what it takes...and then one night, you’ll have your first nightmare about what he might do to someone you love, and then the next day you will try to look in their eyes. Maybe your resolve won’t break. Mine did. And I’ve spent most of my life trying to find another option that didn’t require sacrificing anyone but myself. Stay away from Caulfield, Alex.”

Alex glowered. Jim Valenti  _ was _ a coward. 

“Yes, sir,” was what Alex said, however. He was good at those two magic little words, especially when he was angry. 

Jim sighed and rubbed his face again, searching for a way to say it so Alex would understand that his life wasn’t something to be thrown away lightly, but before he could find the words, the bell over the door jingled happily and the Ortecho girls’ voices lit up the diner.

“You  _ always  _ get the bathroom first,” Rosa snapped, “Because you’re a spoiled little—”

“I get the bathroom first because I wake up on time,  _ Rosa. _ ”

They disappeared into the back room, and then Jim’s attention fell onto the straggler. The bell jingled again as Michael pushed inside, shoulders slumped, eyes fixed on his feet. He headed for the staff room at a sad shuffle, and Jim said a quick prayer  _ please God  _ that it was just normal teenage angst ailing him, and not another crisis, or one related to this whole mess.

Alex’s heart leapt just enough to sink again at the sight of his friends. Liz was going to be mad at him for getting into a fight with Kyle, and Michael surely hadn’t forgotten his slip before, though Alex had his lunchbox with him still and needed to give it back to him. Maybe the only one he really wanted to see was Rosa, so he could pretend he was proud of fighting Kyle for her. He sunk lower in his seat, sort of hoping Michael wouldn’t notice him and he’d have to pretend to look away…

Just before he went in the back, Michael stopped, straightened up, and looked around like he’d heard something. He scanned the diner, and finally saw Jim and Alex, and his face utterly transformed; he dropped his backpack at the door and almost ran over to them.

“ _ Alex, _ ” he breathed, half delight, half anguish. “What happened at lunch, I wanted to—but then you weren’t in English, and someone said you got  _ expelled  _ for  _ stabbing  _ somebody, but Kyle said it was just a stupid fight and you both got off the hook, but Kyle’s a liar—” he rounded on Jim then, fierce and fluffy as a stormcloud, “—sorry, sir, but he  _ is,  _ and if there was a fight Kyle started it. He’s shown up at lunch to pick on us before.” 

“That’s alright, Kyle and I are going to have another chat—” Jim began, but Michael didn’t really invite a response. 

He turned back to Alex. “Are you  _ okay _ ?”

“ _ Michael _ ,” Alex said, a laugh bubbling up inside him as a last-ditch effort to not cry. Michael was worried about him? Michael didn’t hate him? Maybe Alex had misread the thing at lunch entirely, which wouldn’t be so bad, maybe: if Michael didn’t think or ignored him going in for a kiss he didn’t want anyway, they could still be friends? “No, I didn’t—it wasn’t a big deal, it’s mostly just embarrassing.” 

Alex found himself grinning, which hurt his face in a new way (maybe Kyle’s left hook was better than he thought it was) and he stood up to hug Michael. “I have your lunchbox.” 

“ALEX?” he heard screeches from the back room, either because the Ortecho sisters had overheard or heard from their father he was here, and they stormed the diner. 

Not waiting for an invitation, Michael climbed into the booth beside Alex and threw an arm around his shoulders, squeezing him tight for a second before relaxing into a more casual hold. Laughing, Jim graciously abdicated his side of the booth for Liz and Rosa, and headed to the register to order himself some coffee.

“You finally punched Kyle, huh?” Rosa asked. “Bitch had it coming.” 

“Rosa, don’t say that!” Liz protested. “Kyle’s a good guy, he’s just confused. I’ll talk to him.” 

“Don’t worry about it, you guys. It’s really not a big deal,” Alex said, because it really wasn’t. What could classify as a big deal when his father was working at an alien concentration camp and Jim Valenti knew and did nothing to stop it? “Michael, I think I might need your English notes, after all…” 

Jim sat at the bar to drink his coffee slowly and hope that this would be sufficiently distracting for Alex, maybe lift some of the weight of the world off those thin shoulders. 

About twenty minutes later, though, his thoughts were interrupted by Michael coming up to him, leaning in, and muttering, “I need to talk to you.”

Jim glanced over the kid’s head at the booth, where the girls and Alex were still in animated conversation. Alex laughed, and some of the tension in Jim’s chest loosened.

“In private,” Michael added, serious as a heart attack.

“Uh, okay, sure. Sure thing, Michael. Arturo? Can we use your office?” Jim asked, sliding through the double-doors to the back. 

Arturo waved them through, and as soon as the door closed behind them, Michael spoke.

“Alex’s dad is hitting him. Hurting him somehow. You need to do something about it.”

His face was full of righteous determination, back straight and shoulders set like he was ready to fight Jim if he doubted him.

Jim couldn’t believe he was having the exact same conversation about two completely different issues with two completely different children. 

Jesus, maybe he  _ was _ the problem. 

“Michael, I know,” Jim began carefully. “I’ve known for a long time. But it’s a very complicated issue when the abusive parent in question is both a respected member of the community and...well, as scary as you know Jesse Manes is. We’re working on it, I promise.” 

“You  _ know?  _ You’re  _ working on it?”  _ Michael hissed. His hand clenched into a tight fist, but he held back from actually taking a swing. “That’s not good enough! He’s hurting Alex right now!”

“I know, I know,” Jim said, sitting heavily in Arturo’s office chair. He reached out to grab Michael’s arms and squeeze them, trying to impart comfort, or understanding. “Jesse Manes is hurting a  _ lot _ of people, Michael. And he has to be stopped. He will be stopped.” 

Perhaps already broken down by Alex, Jim’s mind was racing. The kids were right, he had to do something, soon. He couldn’t just walk up to Manes and shoot him in the head, as simple as that would be. It might save Alex, but another person would just take over at Caulfield, and in the meantime, Jim would be in jail and unable to help any of them. A new CPS Director would probably take Michael away from Arturo and get Arturo himself investigated, and who the hell knew where they’d send Alex, Flint, and Gregory. 

“I promise you, I’ll stop him, Michael. Just—just give me more time.” Jim winced, hating to ask the next question. “Was that shiner on his face from Kyle, or do you know if it was there before?”

“Well. That one was Kyle, but he was hurt before. Something’s wrong with his shoulder, and he was limping when he got to school today. A-and I know a lot of people won’t believe it and will say it’s just all because of the fight, but it  _ wasn’t.  _ You  _ have  _ to do something.” Michael’s eyes shone with desperation. “You broke the rules for me when I needed you. There has to be a way to do that for Alex too.”

Jim deflated. “I know, Michael. If I could hide him away from Jesse, I would. You have to believe me. I could maybe make a case that he should be sent to live with his mother in Gallup, but that takes time, you know, and court dates, and a hard fight, because this town doesn’t know Jesse like you and I do. There would be plenty of time for him to hurt Alex  _ more _ , if he knows what we’re doing, understand? And what makes you think Alex would testify against Jesse if it meant being sent away from you and all his friends?” 

Michael didn’t have an answer for that, so he just turned on his heel, slammed out of the office, and fled back to Alex’s side, like in doing so he could protect him better than Jim. Like he could do anything to help at all.

Eventually, though, Alex had to leave, and the Ortechos had to get to work. Michael almost insisted that he be the one to take Alex home, but Jim interrupted the budding fight with a hand on his shoulder. The glare Michael shot him could have turned him to stone, or, perhaps more accurately, maybe, shot him with laser beams.

...

Michael was useless for the rest of the day, dropping things and angering customers until Arturo sternly told him to clock out early and he stomped upstairs, threw his backpack beside his bed, and flopped down. Maybe he should scream into a pillow. Rosa might approve.

He turned his head, and right there in his line of sight was the little red flower Alex gave him over the summer. It was as bright and vivid as it had been that day. Hadn’t so much as dropped a petal. Michael reached over to touch the edge of one lightly. He didn’t know if he was doing something to keep it alive, some latent second alien power, or if the flower itself was just...special. What did he know about flowers anyway?

If he was trying to keep it alive, he’d probably be as useless at it as he was at other things, like keeping people safe.

“Hey, dweeb,” Rosa said, waking Michael up with a start. He glanced at his small clock to see that it was nearly eight—the time the family usually had dinner together, after they closed up for the night. “Come on, it’s dinner time.” 

Michael just rolled over and pulled the covers over his head.

Rosa paused, sensing that this was more than Alex’s fight alone could explain. “Come on, get up, I know you gave Alex your lunch. What’s wrong?” 

“Everything! Alex is in trouble, and Kyle sucks, and Kyle’s  _ dad  _ sucks—sorry—and I can’t help anybody!”

Rosa sat on the edge of Michael’s bed, wedging herself into the narrow space. Michael usually responded well to a straightforward approach, which was good, because it was all Rosa had. “Okay. What else is new?” 

Michael curled his knees up to his chest. Should he…

He thought of Alex, dappled by the light through the tree around them, the closeness of him, so much he could smell soap and sun, the way his hair got lighter toward the ends and you could only tell if you got really close, like Michael was. And the way Michael’s heart beat, his tongue felt too big for his mouth trying to talk to him, just being around him sometimes, and.

Alex didn’t make Michael nervous in a friend way, and Michael had thus far ignored the whys and wherefores of it because being around him just felt so good, always new. But after today…

How could he talk about this, though? Not just for him, but did Rosa even know Alex was gay? 

“Something, um...happened at school today,” he said lamely.

"Sounds like a lot of things happened," Rosa agreed. "But what about  _ you _ ."

“Well, something happened that involved  _ me.  _ At lunch. Me and, um…” Alex? A guy? “...someone I really like. But I think I messed it up.”

And he did. He did mess it up. He liked thinking about the way Alex looked right before they almost kissed because thinking about how he looked after Michael pulled away hurt too much.

Rosa shrugged, playing dumb for the sake of argument, though she had a guess as to what, or who, this might be about. “Well, you’re only a freshman. There’s plenty more where that one came from.” 

“Shut up!” Michael whipped the blankets off his head and sat up glaring. “I just said I really like them, it’s not like that! There aren’t  _ plenty,  _ there’s only one.”

Great, now he sounded like Max. Groaning, he fell backwards and pulled the blanket back up.

“Yeesh, maybe you aliens really do imprint, like ducklings,” Rosa said, obviously thinking the same thing and now even surer of her guess than before. She asked innocently, “Do I know him?” 

And the blankets came down again. But Michael didn’t protest, or try to deny it—he hadn’t been hiding it especially hard, after all, and Rosa had always been more perceptive than people gave her credit for.

“I’m not gay,” Michael said. “At least...I don’t think so. I like girls. I’ve  _ always  _ liked girls. So when my feelings started to, uh, change…” he grimaced at sounding like an after school special on puberty, but barreled on, “...I thought it was just what having a best friend was. But now I think I might just be terminally stupid. And no, you don’t know him,” he tacked on at the end, like there was any chance Rosa would believe that.

“I mean you are terminally stupid, but that’s not related to your sexuality.” Rosa nodded, trying to keep from smiling. She swung her legs up on Michael’s bed and crossed them. “See what I mean about family being about more than blood? I’m bisexual, too, Michael. Now we have to just keep dad from finding out so we’re still allowed to have sleepovers, if you know what I mean.” 

“Bisexual,” Michael said, like he was trying out how the word felt in his mouth. Then he quickly ducked his head again. “Do you think he’d...I mean…” He twisted the blanket in his hands. “Is dad going to be mad, d’you think?”

“Of course he’s not,” Rosa said with confidence, though a little voice reminded her she hadn’t exactly come out to him yet herself. “Why would he be mad? You think he’d adopt an alien from outer space and raise a daughter who isn’t even his and then throw us out because we’re queer?” 

(Of course, they knew stories exactly like that, kids with homophobic parents who just threw them out, but their dad was different.) 

“Arturo Ortecho is a man of honor,” Rosa said, mimicking her father’s cadence. “And more than that, he loves us. Maybe he doesn't need to know  _ right  _ away, because then he’ll be paranoid no matter who we try to hang out with, you get me? But no, he won’t be mad. He  _ does _ want grandkids, though, so one of us might have to nut up eventually.” 

“Ha! We can draw straws.” 

“Hey, guys, can you hurry up? I’m starving!” Liz’s voice called through the house.

Before Rosa could leave Michael’s little bedroom, though, Michael grabbed her and pulled her into a tight hug.

“You’re a good sister, Rosa,” he said, then let her go.

“You’re damn right, I am. And you’re a good brother. And just because you’re a good brother I’m gonna give you a free piece of advice about Mr. ‘No one I know:’  _ I know him better than you do _ .” 

They were halfway down the stairs, Rosa racing ahead, before Michael realized that she was talking about Alex.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is called _Codes & Codependency_.

Michelle closed the door to her office, drew the shades, and sat behind her desk. After a few deep breaths to ensure her voice stayed level, she picked up the phone and dialed her husband.

“Hey, hon,” he answered. She rolled her eyes and smiled despite herself.

“Hello, Jim. I just got an invitation to the Baca's cookout this evening. Did you know about this?”

Jim paused. “I...guess I must have forgotten it was tonight. Sorry, I’ll make it up to you! We should bring something, if it’s not too late—does the invite say how many people are coming?”

“At least 15, which is a damn lot, Jaime. Lucky for you work is slow, so I’ll take off the afternoon and we can go shopping. And you better be telling some of your other friends more than you tell your wife; I’m not wasting my Friday night if it’s going to be a disaster.”

“Of course. I know. Love you too, Michelle. I’ll see you later.”

“Mmm. Don’t forget Kyle won’t be home tonight.”

“Right, he’s going to a friend’s house. Thanks for being so on top of things.” Jim’s voice softened to something impossibly genuine. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Michelle sighted. “And don’t you forget it. See you later, Jaime. ...I love you.”

And then she hung up, left herself with nothing but the silence in her office. She sighed, let her shoulders slump, even reached back and took down her severe ponytail, just for a second.

She’d given Jim all the information she’d been able to gain, from tips sent in from the town’s most devoted amateur desert detectives and from her own officers. Military vehicles spotted all over the desert, including the access road to the old Nazi POW site.

Training exercises. Sure. 

No, Jesse Manes must have found something out in the desert, some artifact or clue if not another straggler like the children. (Please, God, don’t let it be more children). If it was another alien, they not only stood a chance of saving them from a terrible fate, but a free alien could be an invaluable ally in helping the others to escape as well. In transit was their best, their _only_ shot. They had to act tonight.

Hopefully it would be enough, speaking in code like this was some ridiculous action movie and not the lives of her family, the lives of dozens of innocent people. Delivering information. Telling him to get backup, even if that backup would only be one woman. Obfuscating where Kyle would be, just in case—he would be at her mother’s, not with a friend, but even the slightest diversion might be enough.

Maybe. Perhaps. If. None of it was enough, and yet it had to be. She put her hair up and headed out to meet her husband.

* * *

Kyle drummed his pencil against his algebra textbook. Alex fantasized about taking it out of his hand and breaking it over his head. At the front of the classroom, the clock ticked so loudly it was almost comical, turning every second into an eternity between one tock and the next.

Friday detention was some kind of torture. Alex’s dad must have found out about this after all and arranged it specially. With barely any homework assigned for the weekend, it was over and done in less than an hour, and all Alex could do was sit and daydream about vengeance.

Worse ways to spend his time? Maybe. But he’d rather be daydreaming about vengeance anywhere other than here. If Rosa was a real friend, she’d have got detention too to keep him company. And to threaten Kyle just a little bit. No more than he deserved. Kyle looked restless, too, more than usual, checking the clock often. What did _he_ have to be worried about? 

Finally, Kyle made eye contact with Alex and slid him a handwritten note. If Alex had been expecting an apology (he hadn’t) he was disappointed. The note read: 

_Do you know what your dad and mine fought about?_

Alex hesitated. He didn’t trust Kyle as far as he could throw him (though he’d love a chance to find out just how far that was), but sharing information could be useful. He bent his head over his notebook.

_I don’t have all the details. Ethics on some project they were working on together, I think. If you hadn’t noticed, my dad’s basically a psycho supervillain. Why? Did something happen?_

Kyle scribbled furiously. _Parents worried for days. Didn’t even care about the detention. Staying with abuela tonight because they’re working_ . Kyle showed Alex the note, and then added: _I thought I heard them talking about your dad, and something about the caves out at Foster’s ranch._

A prickling dread started at Alex’s scalp and cascaded through his body until all of him was cold. 

0630 that morning, standing in the sandwich assembly line with Greg, the two of them exchanging uncertain glances as their father left his office, where he’d been since before any of them woke up, heading for work an hour late with a spring in his step.

Oh, god. What was going on?

 _I don’t know. Will try and find out._ _Stay away from him_ _._ Alex underlined that last twice and kept his finger on it until Kyle nodded. Then he added, swallowing back nerves and nausea, _And could you text me if you see the Evanses or Michael?_

Kyle nodded rather than replying on paper, since they were probably already pushing it. He looked up at the clock. All that excitement...and only four minutes had passed. 

* * *

When they had finally grown beards, gray hair, and died of old age and were released from detention, there were rides waiting for both of them. Kyle’s dad’s secretary, Ms. St. John, rolled down her window. 

“Hi, Kyle! Your grandma’s having car trouble, so your dad asked me to pick you up! Ready to go?” she said cheerfully. Kyle glanced over his shoulder at Alex just once, and Alex gave him an awkward half-wave, not sure where this alliance left them. Kyle didn’t wave back, and then he was gone. 

Greg and Flint were waiting for Alex, driving Greg’s car. 

“Dad says that if you’re not a pill for us he’ll forget about your detention,” Flint taunted. 

Brave man, being a dickhead even as Alex slid into the back in prime seat-kicking position. 

Greg caught Alex’s eye in the rearview mirror. “Dad left me in charge. How does pizza sound for dinner?” 

“Pizza’s fine,” Alex said. “But if Flint wants meat lovers he has to get his own, I’m literally so sick of it.” 

“I am pretty sure it's Alex’s turn to pick,” Greg said, and Flint made a face but still tossed him the coupon book from the glove box.

“Call it in, we’ll pick it up on the way home.” 

They actually managed a fairly civil dinner together. Dinners without their father went one of two ways: a perfectly fun good time where they got to finally let loose without their commanding officer there, or a knock-down, drag-out fight. This was the former, possibly because Greg felt sorry for Alex. 

Alex didn’t get a text from Kyle, which made sense since it looked like he was heading straight to his abuela’s. It didn’t do anything to mitigate his anxiety, though. What was going on? Were Isobel and Max—and Michael—safe? Anything that made his dad happy and kept him out all night could only be a bad thing.

“So what is Dad up to? Did he say?” Alex asked, tossing the last paper plate in the garbage.

"He never says. We're not supposed to ask," Flint said, growing steely even though he'd been laughing a minute ago. 

"Alex, you know these questions only get you in trouble," Greg sighed. "Don't mess with him."

“I’m not _messing_ with him,” Alex replied, actively hatching a plan to mess with him. “Just, don’t you think it’s weird? His schedule’s never off like this.”

There were days, sometimes several in a row, where he didn’t come home at all, but they were always given their orders first. “And all these years in the military and we’ve never even moved once? Don’t you guys have questions, like, at all?”

“There’s important family work to be done here,” Greg said sternly. “Leave it alone, Al.” 

Alex’s heart beat sickly as he looked down at Greg. Did he _know_?

He needed to know if his friends were safe. At least he knew all the escape routes out of this house. He just needed to get to Clay’s old room, ‘cause the security bars were loose on his window and hadn’t been replaced yet.

“Whatever,” he whined, trying to sound just like a petulant kid. “I’m done cleaning up, I’m going to my room.”

“Okay,” Greg said, breathing easily, like he thought that might be harder. “Dad wants you to brush your teeth and go straight to bed. No going out.” 

“What?! It’s, like, not even eight!”

“Alex, please.”

“Ugh, fine!”

(Greg reminded Alex of their mother, what little he remembered of her.)

Flint pulled his attention from the TV and positioned himself so he could watch down the hallway to make sure Alex actually went to his own room. Alex ignored him, even as the feeling of eyes on his back made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. He stomped to his room, flung himself inside, and slammed the door shut. 

Okay. No big deal. He just had to listen for Greg and Flint to go to bed and make his move then. Or, if nothing else, maybe he could chance a call to the Ortechos…? The worst that might do is get his phone taken away.

He grabbed his phone out of his backpack and fumbled it open, only for his heart to skip sickly when he looked at the screen. No service. Disconnected.

_Fuck._

He could just, he could just _picture_ it, his dad cutting off his phone to make him “earn it back” or whatever, just _waiting_ for him to notice and complain…

Fuck!

He scrambled to his feet. The bathroom was a good excuse for leaving his room, but getting to the landline…

He’d just play it cool, casual, or, if worst came to worst, bratty. 

When he slid out of his room and to the bathroom, Flint looked up to watch him again. He was quick in the bathroom, but when he came out he straightened his shoulders and went straight for the phone instead of his bedroom.

He didn’t get two steps into the den before Flint’s voice rang out.

"Straight to bed, Alex," Flint warned. "Dad's orders."

Greg looked more sympathetic, but no more lenient. 

“You mean I don’t even get my one phone call, warden?” Alex snapped. “I just need to call Lindsay and ask her about our history project. She wasn’t in class today and if she doesn’t get her part done I’m screwed.”

Greg seemed conflicted, then sighed. "Fine."

"Bring the phone in here so we can hear it," Flint added. 

Snatching the phone from its cradle, Alex went into the den, thumbed through his cell like he needed to find a number, then dialed the Ortechos’ from heart.

“Ortecho house, Michael speaking.”

Alex schooled his face into complete nonchalance.

“Hi, Mrs. Ramirez, it’s Alex Manes. Can Lindsay come to the phone?”

"Uhh, Alex?" 

"Oh, it's you. Sorry, Lindsay," Alex said, already sweating. "I was just calling to make sure you knew we have that thing due on Monday. But I was gonna work on it tonight. Are all your parts okay?"

“Alex, what’s going on? Are _you_ okay? Do you need help?”

"Yeah. Yeah. My part's good. It's just a report on Chapter 9. The one about the Founding Fathers. Is your part okay?"

“My _parts_ are fine, but, Alex, you’re scaring me. Is—is it your dad? Is he listening right now?”

"Okay, good," Alex said, genuinely relieved. "No, it's just me and my brothers. I'm sorta grounded. But my dad's out of town."

"Okay, she doesn't need your life's story," Flint warned. 

“You asked your question; it’s time to get off the phone,” Greg said, like he was trying to assert his authority before a fight broke out between Alex and Flint.

“I tried to call your cell after your detention was over but it said the number was disconnected,” Michael said. “Just say ‘talk to you Monday’ instead of ‘goodbye’ if you need help, I’ll come over, I don’t care, I’ll do anything—”

"No, it's okay, Linds, thanks, was just checking on you. Have a good night!" Alex said cheerfully, because the last thing he needed was Michael getting close to his family. But he was angry, and as he hung up the phone, he rounded on Flint. "You're _psychotic_ , you know that?"

“Alex, enough,” Greg said, physically stepping between his brothers. “Go back to your room. Look, it’s the weekend, I’m sure you’ll get a chance to get out of the house as long as you behave, okay?”

"Yeah, the gestapo obeyed Hitler, how'd that work out?" Alex snapped. "You're fucking brainwashed, both of you. Right now, dad's out there doing God knows what to how many innocent people, and you two just want to let him."

Flint lunged at Alex, but Greg threw out an arm and caught him.

To Alex, Greg said sternly, “Trust me when I say you have no idea what you’re talking about, okay? Now _go to your room._ Flint, calm the fuck down or I’m sending you to bed too, Dad left _me_ in charge. There’s a chain of command in this family.”

"Whatever!" Alex shouted, storming off, and either satisfied by this or cowed by Greg's threat, Flint went quiet, too. 

This was fine, Alex thought to himself. Michael was safe, if he was following their coded talk back and forth, and so were Max and Isobel. Still…

Alex sat trying to hack his phone into getting on the internet for an hour, and even longer trying to hack his gameboy into the same, thinking he could at least try to message Michael’s email (not that he could check it unless he went to school or the library), but didn't have any luck. 

Greg came in to say goodnight, but Alex didn't respond. With a heavy sigh, Greg went to leave, but then he paused in the doorway and turned back.

“Look, man,” he said, “You’ve got four years left before you can go into the Navy or Marines or Army or something and get away from Dad for good, okay? I get why you might want to. Don’t tell him—or Flint—I said that. Just...keep your chin up.”

Alex thought about telling his brother he didn't want to go into the military, even to get away from dad. But he didn't want another conversation, or another argument, he just wanted to be left alone, hopefully so he could sneak out later. 

Greg met Alex’s silence with a sigh and left, closing the door behind him. Alex closed his eyes, waiting…

And sure enough, the lock clicked shut.

Their rooms had always had outside locks. None of them had ever challenged this, and the locks had never been used. They sat there, inert, keyless as far as Alex could tell until now, a silent, subtle threat.

It wouldn’t contain him, though. Sneaking out was just going to be yet another challenge. Between the security bars on the windows, the alarm on the doors, the lock on his bedroom... If dad had shut his phone off he had surely changed the alarm code—Alex had failed that test once before already, and it did not bear repeating. He was drafting possible sequences to try on the keypad for the alarm when there was a soft tap at his window.


	14. Chapter 14

The first thing Michael did after Alex hung up was call the Evans house to make sure nothing had happened to Isobel or Max, skin crawling from the strange tone in Alex’s voice. He couldn’t believe, not for a second, that Alex was actually okay, that nothing was wrong. 

So the second thing he did was get on his bike, point it towards the Manes house, and start pedaling. It didn’t matter how dangerous Jesse was; it didn’t matter if Alex sort of said he was fine; it didn’t matter if this was all weird bait for some sort of alien trap—all that mattered was the possibility that Alex wasn’t okay. Michael had to do something to help him.

Because he wasn’t stupid, he wouldn’t be knocking on the front door. He’d never been over to Alex’s house, so he wasn’t even totally sure which window was Alex’s. Heart pounding so hard he wanted to puke, he dropped his bike a few houses down and crept the last yards on foot. Like some kind of creeper, he snuck around the perimeter of the Manes house, pressing himself against walls under windows, using his powers to twitch at the curtains and peer inside. 

Three tries later, he hit the jackpot, and nudged aside the plain curtains to a lit room, where he could just see the tense line of Alex’s back, him hunched over his desk, unmistakably Alex from his hair, his posture, his...everything, even from behind, Michael would never, ever mistake him.

He tapped on the window gently to get his attention.

Alex snapped his head around, startled by the noise. "Michael!" He hissed, quieter than a whisper. He went to the window, cracked for airflow, and pushed it open all the way. Though a screen and security bars still stood between them, Alex beamed. It was so good to see Michael. Still, he recovered: "You're not supposed to be here! My brothers cannot catch you here."

“They won’t. I was careful.” Michael wrapped his fingers around the windowsill, in between the bars. “I had to see you—make sure you were okay for real. Do I need to bust you out?”

“Michael,” Alex said again, in wonder, before he recovered. “I—I was just working on that. There’s a lock on my bedroom door and an alarm that’ll go off on the outside door that I’m working on hacking. I—I might be able to get out Clay’s old bedroom, the security bars aren’t that bad there. Two windows that way.”

He pointed. 

Michael paused, only for a second, and made his decision. 

Alex didn’t have to move rooms, put himself in his brothers’ path again, put himself in danger. Michael could get him out from right here, right now.

“Do you trust me?” He asked, stepping closer, wrapping a hand around the bars.

“Trust you with my life? Yes. Trust you not to do anything dumb and crazy? Absolutely not,” Alex said, but backed up. “Wh-what’s your plan?” 

Michael took a deep breath, centered his focus, directed his intention—he’d never done anything half this precise. But with a lot of concentration, straining effort, pressure in his skull and chest and stomach and veins reversed from exerting will on the laws of physics itself, he reached out, and plucked the bolts of the bars from their sockets. They pinged to the ground, one right after another, and then the bars came away in Michael’s hand. Fucking  _ heavy,  _ he had to do one last saving throw with his powers to cushion it and keep it from clanging to the ground loudly.

And then the window was clear, and Michael doubled over and puked on a cactus.

“Oh my God, Michael!” Alex shouted, almost forgetting to be quiet about it. He made quick work of the screen and—well, it was going to be obvious he snuck out now, but Alex wasn’t even thinking about that because Michael—

Michael ripped the bars out of the adobe  _ with his fucking brain _ . 

“Holy shit, Michael, are you okay?” Alex hissed, grabbing his go-bag and jumping down from the window to see Michael puking in the cactus that lined the wall. He hung onto Michael, rubbing his back and holding him as he retched, before offering him some water. 

“No wonder my dad’s scared of you,” he murmured, like this was the highest compliment. 

But it made Michael flinch under Alex’s hand, and he scooted away from him in the dirt, coughing out the last of his bile, washing his mouth with the water before gulping some down, and then when he could finally speak again, it was choked and desperate.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you, I’ll leave you alone if you want—”

“Hey, hey, Michael, no,” Alex said, grabbing him again, slipping a hand around his waist to hold him, to support him or to keep him from running away. “You don’t scare me. You’re amazing.” 

When Michael gulped, Alex realized that was a little close, and anyway they were saying all of this a little too close to the house. He loosened his hold abruptly, but Michael caught him and held him, just for a second.

Then let him go abruptly and put his hand over his mouth to guard from vomit-breath.

“We’ve gotta stop meeting like this,” he said weakly. 

Alex chuckled, pressing more water on him and then hoisting his pack onto his shoulders and dragging Michael away from his house. He grabbed his bike from the driveway on the way, and Michael retrieved his from a few houses down.

“Come on, we need to get a ride. I think Kyle’s parents are going after my dad, and my dad’s going to some place called Caulfield. I found it in my dad’s notes, something about a converted Nazi POW camp, and the library says it’s 100 miles north of here…I think it’s an alien prison or something. I thought he caught  _ you _ .” Alex squeezed his arm.

Michael stopped short. “You—how long have you known? But wait—” Michael’s eyes went huge and white. “Alien prison? It-it can’t be, who would be in prison there, th-there can’t be  _ more,  _ in a  _ prison _ …”

“I don’t know, Michael,” Alex said, still unable to let go of Michael’s arm, needing it for support, though they needed to get on their bikes and get going. But Michael deserved an explanation. “I overheard Jim and Mimi talking to you, Max and Isobel at Maria’s sleepover. And then I started looking into my dad’s stuff. I told Jim about it, but I didn’t think he was going to do anything. I think my dad’s found something, now, and that’s why the Valentis are making a move.”

Swallowing, Michael nodded sharply, and mounted his bike. “Okay, let’s get going then. We’ll ride out to the main road and hitch a ride. Tell them we’re stupid kids looking for haunted places or something. Maybe pay them if you’ve got any money in that bag.” 

“Yeah, I have some,” Alex agreed, and they took off through the neighborhood, dodging the few cars and staying out of sight of main traffic. It was dark, though it wasn’t yet too late, so they stayed on the sidewalks and went fast so no one could see that they were just kids out after 10. Pretty quickly the town thinned out and they were alone on the highway, sticking their thumbs out at any car that passed. 

Michael, at least, recognized the truck by the sound of its engine when it pulled up to a stop behind them. 

“I know that rat’s nest; Michael Guerin Ortecho if you don’t put that thumb down I am going to jerk a knot in you so hard—” Old Man Sanders barked, slamming the passenger door open. “Get in! Friggin’ kids…” he trailed off into a furious mumble, then said, “I’m telling your daddy about this, don’t think I won’t. Aren’t you supposed to be smart or something?”

“Old Man Sanders?” Alex said, backing down to let Michael handle this. This guy was Michael’s boss, wasn’t he? He only knew of him, vaguely, but was jolted into remembering their stargazing trips as kids, and Sanders being the only adult both careless and caring enough to give two hitchhiking brats a ride. Surely he could do that again? 

“You don’t come into town enough to tell my daddy jack,” Michael replied, seeming comfortable enough with him. He was already tossing his bike into the back of his pickup. 

“I’ve got a hundred bucks,” Alex said, abruptly. “Is that enough to buy us a ride, anywhere we want to go?” 

“Kid, if you’re going stargazing again or something I’ll take you for free. Anywhere else it’s gonna be a no. All roads go straight to home and bed for brats like you two at an hour like this.”

“We wanted to check out the old Nazi POW prison. Heard it’s haunted.” Michael said, smooth as butter. “Don’t be a snitch, Sanders, it’s not even a school night.”

“You two are out of your damn minds.”

"Take it," Alex demanded, actually shoving the two fifties in Sanders' face. "It's a hundred miles north of here. You can either take us or we'll wait for the next person willing to take my money."

“I may be blind, but I ain’t stupid. You kids are up to something. What’s this all about? This car doesn’t move until I get the truth.”

Michael hesitated, looked at Alex, then said, “Um, I went to the library and found out that one of my ancestors might have been locked up there. So I wanna see it.”

Sanders’s hands tightened on the wheel, and he said, real soft, “Kid, you and I both know your ancestors weren’t from around here.”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

"German ancestry," Alex tried. "Makes sense."

"Shit," Sanders said, stretching it out into multiple syllables of disbelief. "I mean," he said, and pointed up towards the sky. 

Alex panicked, trying to pull Michael away from the truck. What did this guy know? How he knew it couldn't be good. "Uh, look you know what? Never mind, sorry, sorry, Mr. Sanders, sir. We don't need to go anywhere, thanks. We'll just—never mind!"

“No, wait. What do you mean? What do you  _ know,  _ Sanders? How  _ long  _ have you known?” Michael demanded, near tears.

“It’s a...long story, kid. Get in, and I’ll tell you on the way.” He leveled a serious look at Alex. “I’m not gonna hurt him. He’s...sorta family.”

Alex glared at Old Man Sanders, but Alex had something of a knack for spotting secret bad guys. Sanders looked creepy, but was a decent guy—unlike his dad, who looked like a decent guy but was actually a creep. And maybe he knew something that would help them…

Alex followed Michael into the cabin of the old man's truck.

* * *

They watched. They waited and planned, supplied themselves as best they could, got their children out of the way, prepared themselves to do what needed to be done. Jim had, even, plotted out through years of memory, years of surveillance and desperate desire to do  _ more,  _ found the perfect spot for them to lie in ambush.

And then they missed their window. 

Jim could say anything—that there wasn’t supposed to be that many transports, that there wasn’t supposed to be a back road—but none of it meant anything in the face of the truth, which is that he failed, again, and he had no backup plan.

His hands were numb around the steering wheel. Michelle and Mimi argued behind him about what to do next, but he couldn’t hold onto the words, they slipped past his ears like sand through his fingers. 

“I’m going in,” he said. Barely able to hear himself, took a second to even register that he had spoken. “To Caulfield.” 

“Jim, don’t be stupid—” 

“I know where it is. I know the ways in and out. I even brought my old uniform,” Jim said. 

His worst suspicions, the little tidbits from Alex Manes and a few traffic camera pictures of Jesse’s vehicle on the Clovis highway, and, yeah, he knew. 

Mimi and Michelle stopped talking. 

Jim continued, “It’s just north of here.” 

“If you just let me take off my necklace, I might be able to see—” Mimi began, but Michelle put a hand over her chest to press the large necklace down. 

“No. That’s a last resort, DeLuca,” she said sternly. “If Jim knows something, we’ll follow that lead first. Your daughter needs you.  _ Alex  _ needs you in his life. Don’t be reckless.” 

“Jim, not only will your codes be no good, do you honestly think everyone isn’t told to look out for you? That your face isn’t plastered everywhere on day one of orientation? This is a suicide mission!” Mimi snapped, her fist clenching around her pendant.

“So I’ll keep my head down,” Jim replied grimly, throwing the car into drive.

“I could certainly—I mean I don’t have  _ jurisdiction _ this far north but the whole thing is illegal, anyway. I could try throwing my weight around if you two want to try sneaking in or…” Michelle pinched the bridge of her nose. 

“No! I don’t want you showing your face or using your name, they’ll—”

The car bounced roughly up a hill, and suddenly Michelle and Jim’s cell phones both went haywire, lighting up alert after alert as they suddenly got within cell phone tower range, making everyone in the car jump and curse as Michelle grabbed them to see what was happening.

She let out a short, rattling gasp. That was all. It was the worst noise Jim had ever heard.

She spoke, but Jim knew what she would say before any sound came out.

“It’s my mother. Kyle didn’t...she doesn’t know where Kyle is.”

Jim jammed on the gas. Mimi clung to the door handle. 

“Any calls or texts from Manes?”

“None.”

No demands, then. They were well past the point of deliberation, of indecision. It was time to act.

“Personnel is the lowest it’s been,” he said, quick and clinical. “Powers that be’ve been slowly defunding all Project Shepherd operations since the 50th year of the project. Even at their highest security, there will be holes, and this transfer is the most excitement they’ve had in years. They’ll make mistakes. I’ll get in, get badges and uniforms for both of you, then we’ll split up and look for the new alien, and—and for Kyle.”

Mimi took her necklace off and closed her eyes. 

All she dreamed of was a sea of glowing alien pods. 

* * *

"...Miss Nora was always saying she missed her dance partner," Sanders said, with tears in his one good eye. "The lady who made the crops grow. I watched out for your pods as best I could until—until one day you were just gone."

Alex struggled to absorb most of this, though he was a boy who was both practical and enjoyed his fair share of science fiction. But  _ pods _ ? That was what his brain was fixating on, because aliens imprisoned and experimented on for fifty years by  _ his own family _ was...harder to handle. 

But wait— “Miss Nora? Was her name Nora Truman?” Alex asked.

Sanders was startled enough to look away from the road, shooting Alex a sharp glance. “How do you know that name?”

“I saw—in my father’s office—I know where she’s being held, I know her cell number! We can find her.”

But Michael didn’t respond. He had his knees up to his chest, huddled against the cold metal of the door, pale and staring blankly at the side of Sanders’s head. 

“My mom lived for a whole year on Earth a-and I didn’t get to be with her?” he asked, voice small and young. “A-and now she’s been in  _ prison  _ ever since, and Max and Izzy’s mom  _ died _ ? I—”

He cut off with a sharp cry, and suddenly clutched his chest, gasping like he was  _ drowning.  _ And then he was sobbing, uncontrollably, other hand grabbing his head, then both hands covering his ears, and he  _ slammed  _ himself against the car door—

“Michael, stop,” Aled urged, though that was big talk for someone like him, someone who was part of the system who kept Michael’s family illegally detained in some kind of alien concentration camp. He threw his arms around Michael. 

Over the horizon, the prison came into view.

“We—we’ll get her out,” Alex promised. “I swear to you, Michael.” 

Michael got a few words out between his sobs. “I can  _ hear  _ them, I can, I can, it sounds like  _ screaming,  _ it feels—”

Alex squeezed him, hard, physical comfort the only thing he had to give. 

“We’re going to get them out,” he promised. “We’re going to do everything we can.”


	15. Chapter 15

Sanders, who was a Boomer in real life, played a pretty convincing one for the guards. 

He played up his hearing trouble and kept demanding directions to a ranch he couldn’t remember the name of on the other side of the prison and couldn’t he just drive through? When “Restricted Area” got through, he then had to regale them with stories from Vietnam (not a theater he ever actually fought in, being off the grid as he was).

This was when Michael and Alex slipped through the gate. 

“It’s okay, I’ve studied the schematics for this place,” Alex told Michael in a whisper, though this was generous as he had really only glanced at them. “My dad has an office somewhere around here, and that’ll have keys or codes. Maybe manifests.” 

Michael had stopped crying, though his face was still streaked with tears, eyes red and exhausted. He tiptoed after Alex down the halls, up a staircase into what seemed like an administrative wing. Most of the offices were empty now, their occupants gone home to their families after a day running a black site alien torture prison. Michael wanted to destroy them, rip every office apart. But there were more important things.

They stopped at the office at the end of the hall. It had a nameplate, old, brass, antique. It said _Manes,_ and it had for over fifty years.

“Can you…?” Alex began, checking the corridor behind them and ahead to make sure they were clear. There was, already, he noticed, a few drops of fresh blood on the ground, but that could mean a lot of things, so Alex decided not to mention it. 

Michael took a deep breath and squinted at the lock. It was a fairly regular five-pin lock, but it was a struggle. Michael’s mind couldn’t keep hold of anything, sluggish, like he was trying to push something across the bottom of a pool. By the time it popped open, he had a pounding headache, but nothing left in his stomach to puke up again.

“Great! Great,” Alex whispered, hooking an arm around Michael’s waist and ushering him inside the dark office. “You okay?” 

Fumbling in the dark, Alex found a desk lamp and clicked it on—

Only to see Kyle Valenti handcuffed to a chair with tape on his mouth. His bloody nose explained where the blood outside came from. 

“Holy shit, Kyle?!” Alex yelped. Of all the twisted things he expected to find here, a kidnapped Kyle Valenti wasn’t one of them. His dad really was a psychopath, if a clever one, who wanted leverage against the only people who might try to stop him. Alex rushed to him and ripped the tape off his mouth. “What the hell? Are you okay?” 

“No! I’m not okay! What does it fucking look like—you’re as psycho as your fucking dad if you think I’m okay—” One quick intake of breath became near-hyperventilation. “Oh my god, I want my mom.”

“We have a ride out of here,” Michael said, fighting through his dizziness. “Alex will take you to him.”

“Kyle, it’s gonna be okay,” Alex said, squeezing Kyle’s shoulders. He was on damage control, since the other boys were on the verge of some kind of collapse. “We’ll get you to your parents, don’t worry. Hang tight, I’m going to get you out of here. Just need to find the keys. Got it?” 

Kyle was shuddering his way to a panic attack for sure, but he nodded.

“Good. Breathe. Three in, hold, three out, like it’s the end of martial arts practice. Remember that? Back when you were cool?” Alex squeezed Kyle’s shoulders again and then went straight for the door and latched it shut again before turning back to Michael. He eased him to the floor, leaning him against the wall. “Hey, Michael. _No one’s leaving until we’ve got everyone_ , okay? Here—” he slung his backpack off, placing it in Michael’s lap. “There’s water and snacks in there. Try to eat something. We need your strength, man. I’m gonna go take care of Kyle, alright?” 

Kyle had his head between his knees as he breathed, and he didn’t even protest when Alex started talking to him in low, soothing tones and rummaged for the handcuff keys. 

Michael grabbed a bottle of water from Alex’s military-neat backpack and guzzled it, knowing that if he could get his brain in gear he could get the cuffs open faster. 

His powers felt _wrong_ in here, though. Despair had his head and chest in a vice, pressing down, down, down. But it was something else, too. He was breathing it into his lungs, same as the too-cold, too-dry air. A little light voice in his head said logically that there may be something in the ventilation to keep alien powers suppressed, if they’d been holding aliens here for decades. But all it felt like was horror and grief, and he had to fight through it, regain his control.

“Okay,” he said out loud, and Alex glanced up from the desk. Michael got to his feet, tucked the half-empty water bottle back into the backpack, and sat down next to Kyle.

“Let me see the cuffs,” he said, pretending to inspect them as he pushed out with his mind. “Oh, dude, there’s like a flaw in them right,” they clicked open, “here.”

His attempt at subterfuge did not work very well.

“Holy shit! Holy shit how did you—” Kyle cried, panicking, but Alex held his shoulders.

“Kyle, relax. That’s not going to be the strangest thing you’ll see today. Do you need food or to go pee or anything?” he asked practically. 

“I—yeah, I haven’t eaten s-since lunch.”

Michael helpfully handed him a bag of trail mix. 

“Did you find anything about the cells over there?” He asked Alex.

“No, I—”

All three of them fell silent; Kyle even stopped chewing; the sounds of heavy approaching footsteps sounded on the metal stairs down the hall.

“We have to go!” Alex barked, marching around the desk and snatching both boys along with him. They had to vacate the office _fast,_ before whoever was coming rounded the corner into the admin hallway. Alex all but threw Michael and Kyle out the door and, thinking quick, into what turned out to be a narrow janitor’s closet two doors down. All three of them were piled up together, barely breathing as they listened for voices or footsteps moving past them, waiting to be free, waiting to be discovered.

* * *

Infiltrating the prison could have been called “depressingly easy” if it wasn’t such a relief to have something go right. After finding uniforms to help Michelle and Mimi blend in, the three of them split up, Jim to use his advanced knowledge of the facility to deactivate the failsafe and Michelle and Mimi to search for Kyle and the new alien prisoner. (Also, pods? Mimi kept going on about something about pods? Jim thought that was pretty low on the list of priorities right now.)

Jim had deactivated the self-destruct mechanism rather forcibly—it meant they couldn’t fix it without taking time to do so, but it also had been _loud_. Jim only hoped Michelle and Mimi had more success before he was processed.

The muzzle of Jesse’s gun dug in between Jim’s shoulder blades, sweat slipping down his back on the other side of his ill-fitting old uniform. Jim could hardly breathe, hardly think, knowing in the yawning pit of his stomach why Jesse would take him to the administrative wing instead of throwing him in a cell or putting a bullet in his head.

“I think you’ll be much more willing to cooperate when you see who’s waiting for you in my office…” Jesse said, and unlocked the door. 

The office was empty, handcuffs dangling from the chair. 

Both men stood staring for a split second. Jim should have used Jesse’s surprise to overpower him, or even to pump his fist in _That’s my boy!_ pride, but the gun between his shoulder blades stayed as steady as ever. He could not die here. Not until he knew Kyle was safe.

Into the shocked silence, Jesse’s pager shattered the tension. He ripped it from his belt with a snarl, then let out a bark of unamused laughter.

“Two women caught in labs; awaiting orders,” he read off. “My god, you never change, do you, Jim? I’d’ve thought you’d learn by now to never trust a woman. Well, let’s go see who the unlucky ladies are _this_ time. _Walk.”_

He shoved Jim forward, so Jim walked. Sweat soaked his undershirt, heart fluttering like a caught bird between his ribs. His son, trapped in that office, cuffed to a chair, terrified and alone, until...until what? Did he break out by himself? Where was he now, roaming around this godforsaken place alone?

As if he could sense Jim’s panic, Jesse said with a nasty smile in his voice, "I wonder who else might be roaming around right now. The guards in some of the wings here are supposed to shoot on sight, do you remember that?"

* * *

When they were finally gone, Alex opened the closet door. He had had to clamp a hand over Kyle’s mouth to keep him from calling out, and wrap an arm around Michael’s waist to keep him from throwing open the door and trying to attack Jesse himself. Alex knew a frontal assault would be suicide against Jesse. 

“He’s my dad, he’s my problem, so follow my lead.”

“I’m sorry, that’s _my_ —” Kyle began, but Alex squeezed his arm roughly, warningly. _I’ve been waiting for our rematch all week_. 

“We’ll follow them. Quietly. Stay out of sight. We’ll wait for an opening. We’ve got to get everyone out,” Alex said firmly. “Or maybe you’d like it back in your cell, your highness?” 

The _Star Wars_ reference made Michael snort, just a little bit of levity in the midst of the chaos, even if Kyle completely missed it. 

Making their way through the prison was a slow process; there weren’t many guards, not in the middle of the night, but the ones present were on high alert. Several times, Michael had to create small disturbances to lure them from their posts, so by the time they made it to where they could hear Jim and Jesse’s voices again, he was panting from exhaustion.

“Easy, easy, Michael,” Alex murmured, almost silently, more thinking it at him than anything. 

Kyle wasn’t doing great, either, so Alex ended up supporting both of them, basically. He didn’t even mind how they pressed on his bruises: he hadn’t felt more alive than tonight, thrilling with the chance of doing something against his father, finally, knowing even Jim Valenti was moving against him. He wasn’t _enjoying_ himself, exactly, not amid all the horror and peril, but he didn’t feel quite as numb as he had, and that had to be a step up. “Don’t overexert yourself.” 

They followed Jim and Jesse until corridors opened up into a large room that Alex recognized as a prison, cells lining every wall. There were— _people_ in there, but he didn’t stop to study them. Instead, he looked around for somewhere to hide the barely-upright Kyle and Michael, and his gaze lit on a room labeled Power. 

Bingo. 

Michael’s eyes were swinging wildly around the room, harsh breaths sawing in and out of his chest, but he was pliant in his shock, so Alex pulled him as gently as possible into the hiding place, leaving the door just slightly cracked so they could hear what was going on. 

“Stay here, look out for each other,” Alex whispered, fist clenched in both Michael and Kyle’s collars before he let them go. “I’ll be right back. I need to see what’s going on.”

Kyle protested, but Michael held him back while Alex slipped out and back into the open room, ducking into any alcove he could find a bit of space to hide himself in. 

* * *

Alex snuck out and crawled to look down over a railing below him. Yep, definitely a prison. He could see people-like figures moving in cells. His dad was worse than he thought. Fuming silently, he promised himself if he ever had a gun and a clear shot at Jesse, he’d take it, even if the Sheriff herself were watching. Especially because—

The Sheriff _was_ watching, along with—Alex nearly choked—Mimi DeLuca! They stood with their hands on their heads with one guard training a gun on them while Jesse joined them downstairs, with Jim also held at gunpoint. 

Alex’s mind raced as to how he could help while Jesse spoke to his subordinates. Most of the soldiers in the room (the other three, which seemed a low number for a place like this?), were opening a box that...glowed. And when they pulled it out, it was like a giant, glowy egg, but with a person inside. Thrashing. Alive? Awake? Screaming? What the actual fuck?

“That is a _sentient being_ , Manes. It has rights. They all have rights!” Jim was protesting, and Alex winced when some lackey pistol-whipped him. 

Okay, they had a cell door open, and were clearly going to get the alien out of the egg—pod?—and put it in the cell. A him, maybe. He was naked, but kind of hunched up, so Alex couldn’t tell. Okay. Clearly the cells were electronically operated, not manual, judging by the control panels. 

_Well, okay then_ , Alex thought, looking back at where he had left Kyle and Michael. _Gee, maybe these assholes should have guarded their Power Room better_.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for major character death (the one we've all been waiting for LMAO), for dealing with Caulfield Trauma without just blowing it up, and we'll call it a canon-adjacent major character injury 😈

Jim worked his jaw against the new-bruising pain and kept his eyes trained on the man in the pod. There was something—something not right about him, no doubt, like maybe he had been left in the pod too long, no one left to find him, help him, bring him out. Like maybe his pod was damaged, even, in the crash sixty years ago, with him inside it.

Still, Jim thought at him, as hard as he could, hoping he could hear. _These men here want to hurt you. I am here to help. We must break out of here together, you and me and my two friends._ He repeated that message again and again, but the man’s face never changed, contorted as it was with fury and pain. Maybe the aliens weren’t all telepathic, after all?

“What are you going to do with us, Jesse?” Mimi asked quietly. The guard holding her jammed his gun into her back, but Jesse held up his hand.

“Killing them all at once would raise too many questions. After all, some of our guests are pillars of the community,” Jesse said. “We—”

Then, three things happened at once. 

One, one-eyed Sanders arrived and shot a guard dead with an actual sawed off shotgun. 

Two, the lights went out. Alex got through their frankly laughable security—he’d solved way harder puzzles in _Myst_ —and shut down all power. Michelle used this opportunity to incapacitate the guard and take his weapon before training it on Jesse Manes.

But three, before she could pull the trigger, the alien in the pod emerged, glowing and nude, and grasped Jesse Manes by the throat. Jesse shot him, several times, but the alien howled and his hand _was on fire_ where he grasped Jesse, and then Jesse was screaming, too. 

Alex, Kyle, and Michael spilled out of the Power Room to watch.

A third guard shouted and reached for Kyle, who was closest, fastest, desperate to get to his parents, but Michael drew on the last of his strength to send the guard flying across the room one way and his gun across the room the other. 

“Kids?” Mimi shouted. “Alex, Michael, what the hell?” 

She rushed around the perimeter of the room to get to them, but before she could get there the commotion brought more guards. There were only two, as if that was all they had to staff this massive facility, as if they had grown so passive and complacent—and Michelle had only a second to make her decision, so as they pointed weapons in the direction of her son, she made it.

The gunshots punctuated Jesse’s screams in two sharp bursts, and then there was silence. The alien man stared at his hands, palms, then backs, then looked up and cast wild, dark eyes around the room, until they landed on Michael.

Michael took a hesitant step back—Mimi grabbed him, put him behind her—but still Michael tried, tentatively, to reach out.

_Hi? Can we talk like this? My name is—_

He got in return a jumbled chaos of pain and loneliness, of anger and horrible hunger, starting quiet, growing louder, and louder, until Michael clutched his hands over his ears and yelled aloud, and the man opened his mouth to yell too but no sound came out—

And then the alien collapsed, in slow motion, knees first, strings cut. His chest still rose and fell with breathing.

"No!" Michael shouted, but Mimi kept him back as Michelle knelt by the alien. 

“He’s been shot,” Michelle said. 

Jim bent over him, just looking, not touching. "I—I think he'll be alright—" 

"As alright as any of them will be," Mimi said, wincing visibly. 

"Kyle!" Jim shouted, pulling his son into his arms. He embraced Alex and Michael next. "Boys, what—how did you—Alex, you shouldn't—"

Jim tried to keep himself between Alex and Jesse’s body, but Alex shied away from him. "No, I—I want to see."

Mimi let them go, Alex to Jesse's body, Michael to the side of the alien. 

And then, in the middle of the confusion and the awful, ringing silence the alien’s screams left behind, Michael felt a pull, like none he had ever felt before, not even like the pull he felt to Max and Isobel, drawing him to one of the cells like his own self calling to him.

He wandered towards it, drifting in the current, away from the activity behind him, the—

“Our focus needs to be on getting the kids safe and the power back online.”

“No, I’m staying as long as you are.”

“Alex, please.”

“We’ll handle the bodies later—”

“Someone needs to stay with this man—”

“I will, I think I stand the best chance of calming him if he wakes up.”

“Michael, where are you going?”

“Now, what do we do with—”

In the cells that lined the open space, the prisoners sat or rocked or stood, some of them watching Michael, some of them watching emptiness. But Michael only had eyes for one of them.

He stopped in front of her. 

“I know you,” he whispered, looking her from head to toe. She was emaciated, clothes tattered, eyes sunken and bright, and she stared at him first in blankness and then in fever, so he whispered again, “ _I know you._ ”

She smiled, a breaking thing.

_Son. My son._

“You’re my...my…”

Michael reached out, pressed his hand against the glass. He’d grown so much since she last saw him. Their hands were just the same size.

To everyone's surprise, it was Sanders who spoke next. "Miss...Miss Nora…?"

She didn’t look away from Michael, couldn’t, but she spoke into his head.

_Walt? Little Walt?_

Alex stepped behind Michael, the only thing that could keep him from staring at the body of his dead father. 

"Is that...is that your mother?" Alex asked, and then rushed away again, pressed to Jim Valenti. 

"We have to get them out, we have to let them all go free, what my dad did was wrong, it's—we have to _fix it_ —"

As Jim knelt down to try to explain the magnitude of the situation to Alex while still managing a clingy Kyle, how you couldn't easily fix something like this, the woman on the other side of the glass spoke. 

Or, rather, the glass disappeared between them, and they went somewhere far away and yet near, here but hazy, so they _could_ talk. Here, Nora—Michael's mother—looked young again. And so did Walt: old man Sanders appeared as a child, now, younger than Michael, with two whole eyes. 

Only Michael appeared just as he was now. 

"Have they treated you well? I know the humans are not all unkind. Maybe most are, but not all."

Sanders was weeping openly. "I-I tried, Miss Nora. I wanted to help him, I tried, but they wouldn't let me adopt him…"

"Walt, I am asking about _you_ ," she said, her compassion endless. "I wanted you to be treated better. I am so, so sorry that you were caught up in my fight. You and Roy both. I wish we had more time together. I missed you. Thank you."

Walt sobbed, a lifetime of guilt assuaged as she embraced him. 

Then she turned to Michael. "It's Michael now, isn't it? That's a lovely name. I wish I'd thought of it."

A huge, fat tear rolled down Michael’s chin and plopped to the ground. 

“Mom,” he croaked, and she smiled at him, reached out with hands that shook to touch his hair, to cup his face and tilt it up to her. It only took a couple inches; he was almost as tall as her already.

“You’ve grown so much,” she said, and her eyes on him, on his thoughts, on his memories, here in this place where there were no lies and no barriers and no time between them felt like sunshine after years and years of rain, and she pulled him into her arms, and he tried to hold her steady as her love poured through him, and she whispered, “My baby, oh, my baby… I am so proud of you.”

Too soon, far too soon, the vision faded, and the cold, hard version of the world returned around them, and his mother was on the other side of a wall of glass. The power had been restored, the lights staining everything a sickly yellow. Sanders, his weathered old face streaked with tears, shook Michael’s shoulder and pulled him into an awkward, one-armed hug.

The woman on the other side of the glass was smiling, but she was old and full of pain. 

A hand tugged at Michael’s sleeve, and he jumped, glanced to the side, and Alex was there, face tear-streaked and open, and Michael slid their hands together and held on for dear life.

“We have to go back to the office, find keys, or codes or whatever, we have to get them out,” Michael pleaded, tearing his eyes from Alex’s face to Jim and Michelle and Mimi, watching them from a distance. 

“Michael,” Jim said, so heavy and gentle, “I’m sorry, but—” he looked Nora in the eye instead, but couldn’t hold it for long, “—but there are things we have to consider, like how we’ll care for people who need assistance, where we’ll house everyone…”

In Michael’s mind, Nora spoke too. _He’s right, baby. We need a place to heal. We need time._

Mimi stood up, like she could hear Nora speak, too. "There's something downstairs."

Jim and Michelle looked at each other, seeing as how everyone else was fairly incapacitated. 

"I'll go with you," Michelle told her. "Alex, will you come with us?"

Alex didn't like leaving a shell-shocked Michael alone like this, but he didn't want the sheriff and Mimi to go alone, either. 

He sniffed and tried for levity: "Do I get to carry a gun?"

"While I'm sure you're a better shot than me, the answer is no," Mimi said, picking up a fallen guard's weapon. 

“And I’ll go find the door release codes,” Jim said. “Mr., uh, Sanders, keep an eye on Kyle and Michael. I’ll be right back. Hopefully our new friend doesn’t wake up before we find a way to talk to him.”

"I'm coming with you," Kyle said, trying to sound brave about it when he was feeling the opposite of that. Seeing all these old, broken people was upsetting him in a profound way. He didn’t like feeling helpless. 

"I already looked for keys in the office. Maybe he has some on him,” Alex said.

Jim stared down at the body of Jesse Manes. Yeah, he was afraid of that.

Mimi led Michelle and Alex out of the prison section so Alex didn't have to watch Jim rifling through Jesse's pockets. 

…

“I had a vision before we came in here,” Mimi explained. “There’s something below, in a storage facility, something—alien. I think.” 

“How do you know?” Michelle asked as they made their way in the dark, led by flashlight and Mimi’s instructions. Alex’s form holding the flashlight and checking corners was better than Michelle’s, like a tiny Marine. Was it wrong to be glad, _again_ , that Jesse was dead? “How do you know it’s alien?”

“Well, it’s very simple, Sheriff,” Mimi said, pushing a door open like she knew exactly where she was going. “It’s not quite human.”

In this room, they didn’t need flashlights, as they were met by a sea of large, glowing orbs. 

…

“Okay, I disconnected the self-destruct sequence,” Jim said, hands shaking as he approached the cell holding Michael’s mother. “And Alex cut the power and nothing happened, so, so maybe this key…” 

He nocked the card key in the slot for just a second, taking a deep breath, as if bracing himself for an alarm, or an explosion, or some other version of the end of the world. Maybe even this woman coming out of the cell and murdering him for his old sins, you know, right in front of his kid. The clack of the swipe was loud in the empty space, but the opening of the cell made no noise at all.

And then Nora was free.

Michael vibrated at Sanders’s side, energy and emotion pouring off of him in waves, but he kept himself under control, still and careful, until Nora tilted her head at him and opened her arms.

He ran to her, but his hug was so, so gentle, even as she leaned on him, weak and needing him to hold her up. The world was silent for just a few moments, everything slotted into place. He imagined a life where she had been there, where she had raised him, and he had been there for her, too. But somehow, knowing her and having her here, finally, it was impossible to be angry about their lost time. 

When the world came back, their faces were both wet, but Nora straightened her shoulders and faced the room, all dignity. Walt held out his arm and she took it, looked around until her eyes fell on Mimi, and she smiled faintly.

_Ah. I thought, I hoped, I thought I could feel...and it was true. I am so very glad to meet you, Mimi. Your grandmother and I...well. It’s a story for later, when I have my strength. But needless to say, seeing you is a joy beyond anything I can describe._

Then she addressed the others. _What is it you have found?_

“I...don’t know,” Mimi confessed, shaken by Nora’s cryptic words—but maybe it was something she knew all along. She was holding Alex’s hand, though Alex looked at her oddly, not knowing who she was talking to. “Glowing...eggs?” 

_Pods_? Nora said, while Michael said “Pods?” 

“ _Those_ were the pods?” Alex demanded. “Are you guys, like, born out of those things?” 

Mimi squeezed his hand. “I think they can, ah, rest in them.” 

_Suspended animation_ , Nora explained to Michael. _Time to regain our strength. Heal ourselves_. 

She turned to her son. _I need you to wait just a little while longer for me_. 

Michael sniffled, but kept his chin up and nodded, pressing close to her side. She ran a hand through his curls, and he closed his eyes.

But his voice was steady when he told everyone, “She says that it’s a good plan. That if some people can help, they can get everyone into a pod, and in a f-few years or so, maybe…”

But Michael knew it would be longer than a few years, somehow. 

“I’ll help,” Alex offered, sounding far too old for his fourteen years. "My family is—" he paused, looking uneasily around him, but he pressed on. "My family is responsible for all that's wrong here. It's my responsibility to fix it."

Mimi squeezed his hand, and though she wanted to put Alex behind her, she didn't. 

Jim winced, thinking that was both a brave and foolish thing to say before they let these people out. Jim squeezed Alex’s shoulder, and he wished, looking down at him the scant few inches he needed to look down, just for a few minutes he wished for the days when he’d have to crouch to look the children in their eyes, when with a few words he might could make the world less scary for them.

“Alex,” he said, softly and solemnly, “this is not your burden to bear, do you hear me? My family is responsible for that bloody legacy too, and between the two of us? I’m the one actually with blood on my hands. Let me take this one, okay?”

Alex’s lip trembled briefly before he got a handle on it. “But let me help. Please, Jim.”

Jim sighed. “Okay. Stick by Michael for me, okay? Make sure him and his mom are okay.” 

Alex relaxed, feeling better with a clear objective. “Got it.” 

He went to stand by Michael’s side, taking his other hand. 

Hands still shaking, Jim unlocked another cell. 

Slowly, one by one or two by two as Nora spoke to her people to determine how able they were to get to a pod on their own, they began the process of freeing everyone and getting them to safety. It was hours of work, heartbreaking, backbreaking. Some of the prisoners needed to be carried. Some of the pods needed to be moved to the cells directly, and then moved back down again. 

They took care of the new alien man too, even. Nora bent over him, laid her hand on his forehead, face twisting with pain at what she found. But still, she ordered Sanders and Jim to carry the man to a pod.

“I can’t believe Project Shepherd never got into these,” Michelle said, looking over the warehouse space, her hand resting on the nearest empty pod. “They never forced a prisoner to…”

“Oh, they tried,” Nora said aloud, and though her voice was weak she commanded everyone’s ear. Her smile was a cold, hard thing. “We resisted. For the children.”

Michael sucked in a sharp breath, like a fist to the stomach, and she stroked his hair again, just the briefest brush of fingers, and went back to work. 

Alex took Michael’s hand, trying to comfort him, though he couldn’t imagine what he was going through. Maybe it was easier to have a horrible father that hated you than have a wonderful mother who loved you but was taken from you. 

Multiple times Michelle or Sanders tried to get Nora to sit down, to preserve her strength, but every time she refused them. 

“Can I get you something to drink?” Alex asked her, finally getting the courage to speak to Nora directly once almost everyone had been transferred to the pods. They looked more peaceful there. Now there was just one more alien to escort downstairs, and then Nora herself. Alex kept one eye on the body of his father, laid out against the wall. “Acetone, right? M-maybe I can find some…” 

“Thank you, Alex. You’re helping me so much, already,” she said, actually speaking aloud back to him. “You just keep looking after Michael and Walt for me, okay?” 

Alex stood up a little straighter. He had been about to answer her, stammering, bashful, when Mimi cried out, a sound someone makes who recognizes approaching danger but is too startled to actually call out what the danger is. 

And then Alex saw his father rise from the fucking grave like the god damned zombie of his nightmares and point a gun at Jim Valenti. 

“Dad!” Kyle wailed; Sanders grabbed him by the back of his shirt and yanked him back behind him, putting himself between Jesse and Kyle and the mute alien man he’d been escorting.

"Jim!" Michelle had put her gun away, but without a proper holster it was taking her too long to raise it.

Mimi and Nora froze, paralyzed with fear and grabbing Michael.

Jim stood still, too, looking almost resigned to going out like this.

Whether out of spite or morbid curiosity or fear, Alex was the closest to Jesse and the only one who could do anything about him, and he reacted on instinct. 

“You don’t know what you’ve _done,”_ Jesse roared, teetering near death, blood-spattered, waving the gun unsteadily. He was on the ground, body shuddering, unable to get up all the way, and Alex was just a few steps from him, standing in between him and Michael, just a few steps from kicking the gun out of his hand, kicking him in the goddamned teeth—

Somehow, what processed first was sound. Jesse's shot rang out, and was followed immediately by Alex crying out, before this was drowned out by the echo of one more gunshot, and then several more as Michelle Valenti emptied an entire clip.

Jesse Manes dropped dead.

"Alex!" Jim’s entire body was drenched in ice, in numbness, in disbelief, as Alex Manes collapsed. The shot was meant for him, but Alex had kicked the gun a split second before Jesse fired, and now Alex was on the ground, bleeding. Jim rushed to him, pulled him away from Jesse, leaving a smear of blood on the floor. 

"Alex!" Michael screamed and tore away from Mimi and his mother, skidding to his knees in front of Jim and Alex, grabbing fistfuls of Alex’s shirt and clutching him. Alex’s eyelids fluttered, opened briefly as he whimpered in pain.

“Fuck. Fuck!” Alex said, figuring he was allowed some curse words if he’d been shot. Anyway, who was going to get mad at him? His dad was dead, wasn’t he? ...Wasn’t he? He couldn't feel his _leg_ , his dad better fucking be dead. “Did you get him?”

No one answered Alex’s question, however. Mostly people were screaming his name. Everything started to happen very quickly around him. Michael was there, his presence through the haze a comfort. 

“Someone tell me he’s fucking dead this time.” 

The coolest head in a crisis, Michelle stowed her gun and marched over. Blood drenched Alex’s jeans and Jim’s hands, but Michelle was quick and efficient as she checked Alex out, turning him over into Jim's arms.

“He’s gone, Alex, I'm gonna need you to be still." Michelle said sternly, and used a knife to cut the back of his jeans off as she spoke more quietly to Jim and Mimi. "Contact burns, and looks like the bullet took a chunk out of the calf muscle. He needs a hospital. We've got to stop the bleeding. Someone give me a shirt or something for bandages.”

“I’m okay, I’m okay,” Alex insisted, small hand fisted in Jim's shirt as he tried not to cry. There was pain now, so that was good. It meant he still had a leg, and probably wasn't going into shock, though the fact that he wanted to ask again if his dad was actually really positively dead this time maybe meant he was slowing down a bit. When Michael just shucked off his shirt and undershirt together, however, blood loss to his brain started becoming a real problem for a totally different reason. 

“Oh my God, my God, Alex!” Jim said, his hands drenched in a child's blood, as Michelle took the shirt and wrapped it around his right leg just below the knee. “Alex, what were you thinking…” 

Alex _hadn’t_ been thinking, much beyond wanting to stop his father, and hating his father, and wishing he were dead rather than knowing the full extent of his father’s evil. 

But Michael kneeling beside him, holding his hand, freaking _shirtless_ , was definitely changing his outlook on wanting to keep living. 

“Thought I’d screw with dad’s plans one last time,” he croaked, grinning. 

Michelle cinched the last strip of Michael’s shirt tight around the wound, making Alex wince. “Enough chatter,” she said, not unkindly, “Mimi, will you take him? We’ll finish up here and meet you at the hospital when we can." 

“Of course.”

They sat Alex up, and Mimi ran a hand through his hair. "You're getting a little big for me to carry, Alex."

"I can walk, Mimi," Alex said, breathing through his nose and clenching his teeth. He clung tight to her, for a moment feeling very small and missing his mother. Or, not missing her, really, since Mimi was here. 

Jim and Mimi heaved him to his feet, just to check how he did. "Let me carry him to the car," Jim offered. 

" _He_ can hear you," Alex snapped. "Let me walk. Or, I dunno. Hop."

"Alright, alright. I'll be right back, Chelle," Jim said, as they began moving Alex out of the building. 

“I—” Michael gulped down emotion and glanced at Nora. “I have to go with him."

She nodded. _The universe made you wait so long for me. Now I will wait for you, my son. I love you. I am so proud of you._

Michael hugged her again. Exhaustion dragged at her every atom, but when they touched, Michael gave her all of his strength, and she knew he didn’t even know he was doing it, and she had no words for the emotion in her heart.

It wasn’t enough. No number of hugs would be enough. Once again, the universe was infinitely crueler than Nora ever could have dreamed when she was flying through it, searching for a new home. But they _would_ have a life together, she and her son. One day, when the healing was over.

 _Go to him. He needs you. I love you so, so much._ She cupped his face in her hands. 

_I love you, too. I always loved you, even when I didn’t know you. I won’t let you be alone in your pod, I’ll come speak to you, all of you—_

_We’ll hear you. Go, my son. I love you._

And Michael ran to catch up and shared Alex’s weight once more.


	17. Chapter 17

Alex came out of anesthesia feeling vaguely nauseous, but mostly because he was worried that his dad being dead had just been a pleasant dream. But his brain also recalled Mimi and Jim coaching him on their cover story, and what he was supposed to know and what he wasn’t supposed to admit to. This was why when he woke up, the first garbled sentence he could get out was, “I forgot the story shit.” 

“Alex!”

Alex put in the herculean effort to turn his head to the side, and his eyes fell on Michael, who looked rumpled and exhausted, with huge, bruise-like shadows under his eyes. He was hunched over his ratty old backpack, needle and thread in his hands as he patched up yet another hole in the well-worn vinyl.

“Hold on, I’ll go get Mimi, or a nurse, just, you’ll be okay, I’ll be right back, I—”

"Michael," Alex said, shifting uncomfortably, trying to make himself wake up. "Don’ go."

Well, that wasn't what he  _ meant _ to say at all. It was too needy, too desperate, but God damn it, he was scared and fucked up, and he had been shot, so he was allowed to ask for some comfort, wasn't he? Even against his own brain's orders. He tried clearing his throat. "Hang on. I don't want you to—just—hang on. Brains. You look like shit. Okay? You okay?"

Michael dropped immediately back into his chair, reaching out carefully. 

“Is—Is this okay?” he asked, squeezing Alex’s hand. They’d held hands a lot at the prison, but that had been...different. In the light, he remembered how bad he’d fucked up at school, and he wasn’t sure if he’d be welcome. 

"Mm," was all Alex said for a minute, closing his eyes while he focused on Michael's hand wrapped around his and tried to remember what Michael was worried about. School? It felt like a year ago that he had been at school. He had detention with Kyle. That was funny now, for some reason. He laughed. "This is okay."

Then he sobered. Caulfield! Michael's mom! He had met and lost his mom in one day. And knowing what his own family had done to her…no wonder Michael was hesitant.

"Are you okay?" Alex asked, giving him an intense look and squeezing his hand back. "How long was I out? Have you gone home?"

“It’s only been like a day. It’s Saturday. 2pm. I went home for a little bit—long enough to make it look like I’d never snuck out in the first place—but then I came straight here. Things are crazy,” a smile flickered onto his face and then was gone, “But there’s nowhere else I’d rather be. I’m...messed up. Holding it together. Still processing. But how are  _ you?  _ You took a  _ bullet  _ for Mr. Valenti, oh my  _ god.”  _

“I think technically I tried to kick a bullet.” Alex chuckled, squeezing Michael's hand, fingers creeping up his arm to hold his pulsepoint, his wrist, his arm. Wanting him closer. He also found he could twitch his toes, meaning he still  _ had  _ toes, so that was good. "Please tell me my dad is all-dead this time, not just mostly dead. And everyone at Caulfield is…safe?"

“Yeah. The sheriff’s been by. Everyone is...resting. Your cover story is that your dad caught you sneaking out and got so angry he drove you off into the desert and tried to....and then shot himself when he realized what he had done. Sheriff Valenti’s already, uh, handled the crime scene. And...and she’s already broken the news to your brothers, too. They’re still at home ‘cause Greg’s eighteen, but yeah. They came by to see you, but left once you were out of surgery.”

Alex nodded, soaking this all in. ‘Luckily,’ he had some bruises that would match this cover story. The situation wasn't good, but it also wasn't...bad? He was grateful for Michael’s reminder, since the painkillers or whatever he was on were making him feel goofy. 

Now that he was waking up, he had a thousand more questions. The one that came out through the haze was, "Guess it was pretty dumb to give a chart of outer space to someone  _ from _ outer space, huh? Thanks for humoring me."

“No!” Michael exclaimed, scooting close like he was trying to climb into bed with Alex. “No, no, I loved it.  _ Love  _ it. It’s the best gift anyone ever gave me, even if you didn’t know why at the time. I’ve never  _ been  _ to space. Not that I remember. And you gave me a piece of it.”

Alex felt his throat tightening. Stupid drugs. "Well, you've definitely been, even if you don't remember it. I'm glad. Wow, I don't even know why I thought of that."

Alex giggled and squeezed Michael's hand again. Arm, now, like he was trying to tug him into bed with him. "Thanks for being here. Now, please. Stop trying to distract me. How are you doing? Seriously." 

Michael kind of shrunk right before Alex’s eyes, curling up into himself, dropping his eyes away. It took him a few minutes before he could speak. 

Alex didn't interrupt, just let him talk, and keep talking. Alex got the feeling that Michael still wasn't used to being asked this question, or being safe enough to answer it. 

“I’m...sad. Horrified in a way that I don’t even have words for. Glad I haven’t had to try and sleep yet. Sad ‘cause I still don’t have my mom, guilty ‘cause Arturo’s done so much for me and wanting another parent feels like a betrayal. Scared. That something bad will happen to me now that like  _ everyone  _ knows I’m an alien. That...that ‘cause your dad’s dead you’re gonna have to leave Roswell. A-and…” tears welled up in his eyes and ran down his cheeks, falling onto the backpack still in his lap. “And so guilty that I want you to stay so bad even though I know your dad hurt you.”

"Oh, Michael," Alex said, and this time when he pulled Michael into his arms he came, and then they were embracing in a crushing hug, even though wires tugged and the machines beeped in annoyance. It felt good to hold onto him, to hug him, and Alex knew then that he loved Michael Ortecho and was never letting him go. 

"You have every right to be sad," Alex began with Michael’s head still resting on his shoulder. "What my father did to your people is...well, you can be sad, but I'm furious about it. And you don't have to worry about Mr. Ortecho, he knows you can love him and miss your mom at the same time. We could go visit her sometime, together. Any time you want."

Michael nodded against Alex’s neck, holding on for dear life until pulling away with a sniffle, checking Alex over to make sure he hadn’t hurt him.

"And you don't need to be scared of—of any of that. I'm going to keep you safe. I promise. I'm not leaving." Alex wasn't actually sure he didn't have to go live with his mom, but he would work something out. 

“I should keep  _ you  _ safe. You got shot, Alex!” 

And the nurse was probably going to be here any second, if the machines beeping was anything to go by. It was probably for the best, even if Michael wasn’t ready to share Alex yet.

"I did?" Alex asked. 

He gave Michael such a convincing look of confused concern that Michael fell for it for a few seconds, just enough to startle him into laughing. “Don’t mess with me like that.” 

When the nurse came in to the two of them giggling, she asked Michael bemusedly, " _ He's _ on lots of drugs right now, what's your excuse?"

“Nothing, ma’am,” Michael said, sheepishly sinking back into his seat and gathering his backpack into his lap, but he still shot Alex a grin under her arm as she bent over to check on him.

“Are they gonna have to chop my leg off?” Alex wondered. 

The nurse blinked at him. “Jesus, kid, what a thing to assume!” 

“Contact trauma? He was pretty close,” Alex said. “Did it really miss the bone?” 

“...I’ll send your doctor in, but you’re not scheduled for any more surgeries, and that looks like a perfectly good leg to me,” she said. If she looked weirded out, it was probably at a fourteen-year-old knowing about gunshot wound patterns. 

After she left, Alex squeezed Michael as hard as he could. “I’m just glad he shot me and not anyone else. I don’t think I could be the same person if he hurt you.” 

“No one said anything about you losing a leg,” Michael said, but he added it to his own list of worries, now. “I heard the doctor talking to Mama DeLuca and Mr. Valenti, sounded like they said you’d be alright.” 

Before Alex could reply, Mimi came in. With her came Maria, the Ortechos, and even Max and Isobel. He wasn’t sure whether to be offended or grateful that Flint and Greg weren't here—much less Clay. Or Kyle, for that matter. Alex figured the Evanses were here to see Michael, but Isobel actually came bearing gifts for Alex. 

"I didn't know if you'd freak out if I brought just the flowers, so I decided on a stuffed ninja turtle and chocolates, as well." She said it like she anticipated him being difficult about it and was preemptively annoyed, but Alex was beginning to suspect that she had a sort of resting bitch voice and didn't actually mean it that way. 

"Uh, three for three, actually. I really like lilies," Alex replied, grinning. 

“Finally, someone around this place has taste,” she said, getting a chuckle out of Mimi, who put the flowers on Alex’s bedside table.

To his friends’ credit, everyone didn’t talk all at once. Mimi was content to sit on the edge of Alex’s bed and stroke his hair out of his eyes, while Maria clung to her side. Liz and Rosa stood at the foot of the bed, and Max and Isobel clustered around Michael, the three of them gravitating together. 

“Alex, how are you feeling? I know you’re probably sick of being asked that, but, but—” Maria asked, hugging her mother’s arm tighter, like she wanted to smother Alex with a huge hug but was afraid he would break if she did.

"Maria, come here," Alex said, rolling his eyes slightly, like, why wouldn't he want a hug? "Liz, you, too," he added, since Liz also looked like she needed the physical reassurance that he was alright. They came at him from each side, and it was the best hug he’d had in years. Rosa settled for a fist bump. 

"I'm okay. I am feeling  _ no _ pain, I assure you. Even about the leg," he said, a dark joke that everyone wanted to laugh at but no one did. Well, Rosa did a bit. It was hard to pretend they weren't all desperately glad his abusive father was dead. 

They visited for a while after that, but Alex tired quickly, much to his frustration. Mr. Ortecho even came by to fuss over him a little bit before taking his kids home to let Alex rest. Michael lingered by the side of the bed, looking down at Alex with purple-ringed eyes, backpack hugged to his chest.

“I’ll come back,” he promised softly.

"You need to sleep," Alex admonished, but the moment lingered, until Isobel let out a delicate, pointed cough and Michael scrambled out of the room, cheeks and ears bright red. 

The Evanses left not long after, leaving just Maria and Mimi. Mimi didn’t speak until the door closed behind everyone with a soft click.

“Now I know you’re still processing everything that happened, so I don’t want you to think you need to say anything right now,” Mimi said. “But Maria and I wanted to be the first one to float this idea by you. We’re all gonna have to make decisions over the next few days about what’s best for you and your brothers, and I thought I should let you know that, well—if you don’t mind being separated from them, if you wanted to stay in Roswell… I’ve talked it over with Mindy, and it would be a delight to be your guardian, Alex.”

Maria stared at him with huge, shining eyes. “I’ve always wanted a brother. I mean, that’s a lie, but I’d want  _ you  _ as a brother.” 

Alex had braced himself when Mimi began, but now he was so worn out that he reacted by laughing. 

"I thought you were going to tell me I was gonna have to have my leg amputated, or some shit!" he said, his laugh almost giddy with how tired he was. 

Mimi put her hands on her hips, mad that the sweet mood was spoiled. "Alexander Manes, you're running out of allowed swear words for taking a bullet for Jimmy Valenti."

"If you're gonna be my guardian, you'll have to know that my birth certificate just says 'Alex,'" he chuckled. "But—thank you."

Alex's eyelids drooped, his smile beatific. "I mean, do you really mean it? You talked to my mom?" 

“We’ve talked about it, yes. She knows your heart is here, and she said the choice was up to you. Of course, if you’re just going to backsass me…” She teased. 

"Hey, I  _ know _ Maria backsasses you," Alex said, blinking slowly, and then he jerked, like he had been about to fall asleep. He peered at her suspiciously. "You'd really want me?"

Mimi smiled at him and kissed his forehead like he guessed a mother would, and Maria laid down beside him “Of course. Now get some sleep, okay? Maria and I will be right here when you wake up.”

…

Michael couldn’t get away later that day or most of the next—the Crashdown was swamped, so much that only one Ortecho could get away to visit Alex at a time. And besides, as Arturo told the three of them as gently as possible, there were other things that needed to be done to ensure Alex was healthy and that there was a plan for his future, along with the formal “interview” with the sheriff to get their cover story on the books. Too many visitors would probably just be in the way.

But Michael couldn’t stay away for long, so the next night he loaded up his backpack with a few things for Alex and set off toward the hospital.

It was well past visiting hours, but after Caulfield, sneaking in was almost worryingly easy. Would Alex be asleep? Probably. But if he could just be there when he woke up, even if he got in trouble for sneaking out…

“We’ve got to stop meeting like this,” Alex said, hitting mute on his tiny hospital TV. He didn’t know why he hadn’t gone to sleep yet, but he was glad he hadn’t. He grinned at Michael, who was plastered against the door, clutching his backpack, like a cartoon character sneaking around. He said bemusedly, “What’re you doing here, Ortecho?” 

“Oh! You’re awake,” Michael breathed, relaxing minutely. “I just wanted to see you. Sorry I couldn’t come by today. I-I mean, I can leave if you’re tired or wanna be alone.”

“Nah, man, it’s fine,” Alex said, adjusting himself in bed with a small wince. “I’m glad you’re here, I’m so bored. And I even have some good news, which I’ll tell you if you brought me anything good.” 

Michael eased off the door and sat down beside the bed. “I mean, that’s a lot of pressure, man.” He opened his bag, knowing just how to jimmy the zipper so it didn’t catch where the teeth were crooked. “I’ve got some clothes for you, your Gameboy—Greg says hi, by the way, and that he’ll come visit if you again tomorrow—Dad sent some food that I don’t know if you’re allowed to eat here, and, uh—and that’s it.” 

Hopefully the room was dark enough to hide his blush as he quickly zipped his bag back up to hide the star chart he’d stowed in there as well. So embarrassing. 

“Really? That’s  _ it _ ?” Alex teased, obviously sarcastic, because he was so happy. His eyes grew huge as he smelled what Michael was holding. He patted the bed across from him, folding up his legs. “Are those churros?” 

Michael climbed onto the bed awkwardly, hesitantly, like the added weight was going to set off an alarm or something, but when nothing happened he handed Alex a paper-wrapped churro with a smile.

“I hope it’s okay to eat. I know hospital meds can make you sick sometimes. I have an emergency water bottle—” he always kept a little water and food in this backpack, just in case, “—but not anything else to drink. Sorry. I can maybe sneak out to the vending machine?”

“Nah, this is good. I’ve got my water,” Alex nodded at the hospital-issue pitcher and plastic cup, and dug into the churro with relish. “Oh my God, this is so good, Michael. I won’t get sick. Pretty sure that’s a  _ white people _ thing.” 

Alex winked, not actually talking about white people. He still couldn’t believe his best friend/crush was an alien from outer space. 

Michael chuckled at the joke, but quickly went back to being serious. “So, good enough to earn me that good news? What’s up?”

“Oh, yeah. Well, two good things. Doctor’s been by, leg looks good, considering. I’ll be on crutches for a few months at least, and I get to do physical therapy, but it’s not as bad as it really could have been.” 

“Hey, great! That’s good news,” Michael said, relieved. “Your soccer career isn’t over.” 

“Well, I mean, he specifically didn’t guarantee a ‘full recovery,’ whatever that means,” Alex shrugged. “But, ah, maybe more importantly. It’s, uh, kind of a secret for now, but Mama DeLuca and Jim were talking about seeing if I could stay in Roswell and live with Mimi. Wouldn’t that be awesome? I’m—almost afraid to get my hopes up in case—I dunno. I barely remember my mom, so I’m not—Mimi’s always been more of a mom for me. It’s mean and it’s not Mindy’s fault, but it’s the truth.” 

Alex winced, suddenly worried he’d said too much, but he knew Michael was forgiving about his feelings, when he had them. 

“You, being Maria’s brother? That sounds awesome, that’s—” But Michael cut himself off quickly, all too familiar himself with not wanting to get his hopes up. “Um, what are Greg and Flint gonna do, do you know yet? How do you feel about being separated from them? I know you guys aren’t, like, really close or anything, but still…”

“Well, Greg’s 18. I think he was planning on joining the Navy, but...I don’t know that he’s going to, now. Flint—Flint was closest to mom when she was here. I don’t know. I sorta don’t care. It’s not like we’re orphans, you know. It’s just that our mom lives so far away, and I barely know her.” Alex paused, sounding bitter to keep from sounding hurt: “I feel—guilty that I don’t want to go live with her, if it’s even my choice in the end. That I’d rather be another statistic, another Native kid raised off the reservation with no connection to his heritage.” 

Alex shrugged, wincing again. This was a lot heavier than he meant to get with Michael. These painkillers made him way too chatty.

“I don’t think you need to feel guilty. I mean...she did leave. Maybe she had her reasons, but...I dunno. Maybe there’s a way that you could still spend time with her or the rest of your family or just on the reservation, when you wanted to? It just doesn’t seem fair. I don’t know, maybe that’s dumb—obviously I don’t get to talk about how you feel about your heritage and that aspect of what living with your mom would mean. I guess...I guess maybe I’m just projecting, because it’s what I want.”

“No, I mean. I guess you do get it more than anyone would. If your mom—when your mom is, uh, better. Do you want to leave with her? Leave the planet? Go back to the stars? Stop being an Ortecho?” 

“I don’t want to have to choose; I don’t want it to be all or nothing. I want to know where I came from, but I don’t want to give up what I’ve got. I dunno. I  _ do  _ want to see the stars. And be with my mom. But I can’t just  _ leave  _ the Ortechos. They’re my family. And I wouldn’t want to leave you or Maria either. Just the thought of you moving a couple hours away freaks me out!”

“Come here,” Alex demanded, tugging Michael into a hug, feeling like a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders—or, maybe, more, that he had someone helping him carry it. “I think my mom’s family has horses and some land. You can come visit me if you promise I can visit the stars with you someday.” 

“Of course. We’ve still gotta check the Clown Nebula for Flint’s face, after all,” Michael said, and hid his grin in Alex’s shoulder. 

They whispered to each other for a little while longer, Michael squeezing into bed beside him. He even pulled out the star chart eventually, still blushing as he did, and the two of them studied it closely, theorizing about where Michael’s home planet might be located. It wasn’t long, though, before Michael dozed off, still exhausted from all the excitement of the past few days.

Alex didn’t dream of kicking him off the bed to the fold-out couch situation. Michael was a warm pressure all along his side, which felt kind of nice in the cool hospital room, and his head was pillowed kind of adorably on his arm. He was too tired and too trapped like this to get the lights, but as he dozed off a nurse or someone came in to check on him and turn off the lights. 

…

Alex woke when the nurse came in with breakfast the next day, but Michael slept on, oblivious. 

“Heavy sleeper?” the nurse asked. 

Alex liked this nurse. He was a dude, and was kind of obviously Out, wearing a rainbow bracelet and exuding a kind of queer, vaguely feminine energy—something Alex had always been afraid of, both to see and to be seen presenting, though now he realized he didn’t have to be afraid anymore. He glanced down at Michael. 

“I don’t think so. He saw me after I got shot and I think he’s just worried.” 

“Boyfriend?” 

Alex blushed. “Uh...no, no. Just a friend.” 

The nurse smiled and winked at him. “Well, good friends are important too. I’ll leave you two alone, you just call me if you need anything, okay?”

He left, and Michael slept on. He had one arm tucked up against his chest, the other one laying heavy across Alex’s stomach, not holding him, not really, but...it was still obvious why the nurse might have thought they were together.

_ Not yet, anyway _ , Alex dared to think to himself. 

And if Michael kept sleeping while Alex tried to develop telekinesis of his own to spoon his oatmeal into his mouth, Jim saved him by coming by with illegal breakfast burritos—and still Michael slept. 

"I let him stay over," Alex explained before Jim could say anything. "We fell asleep looking at the star chart." 

Jim nodded, unflappable. "Red or green?" 

"Green, always, for breakfast," Alex said. That wasn't a rule, but it was his rule. He could move his hand to his mouth easily once Jim unwrapped the burrito and set it in his hand. "Thanks. Did you talk to my mom?" 

“I did. She’s coming to town tomorrow so we can get the ball rolling on everything. She knew a lot about your father, Alex. She...understands that things are complicated and not necessarily by the books on this one. And she says that she wants it to be your choice—all of you boys—if you see her or not, much less if you go to live with her full time. Ball’s in your court, kiddo.”

“Well, of course I want to see her, I don’t blame her for leaving him,” Alex said, but he still sounded bitter to his own ears. “You really...I can really stay with Mimi? That’s you saying that with your CPS hat on, not your Uncle Jim hat on?” 

“Well...I can’t make you any full-on promises,” he said, knowing Alex would appreciate the entire truth most of all. “Not yet. Your dad’s death is a little more high profile than the other times I’ve been able to pull some strings. There’ll be things to iron out, there’ll be a hearing...but I’m gonna do everything in my power.”

“I’m ready for that hearing,” Alex said, though he was preemptively tired about it. Ready to paint a town hero like the secret psychopath that he was. “Greg came by. He will, too. And he thinks Flint might actually want to go with Mom, so it’ll be in his best interest to not make her look like she left for no reason.” Alex swallowed. “I’ll even come out, publicly, if you think it’d help. Not sure it’ll get me any sympathy, but it’ll give them the obvious reason why he beat the shit out of me on the regular.” 

Jim sighed. He’d lost his religion somewhere along the line, but he hoped dearly that Jesse was in hell. “That’s brave of you. But not a decision you need to make from your hospital bed, okay?” He patted Alex’s uninjured knee. “Speaking of which. Alex...you saved my life. After everything, after all the times I failed you with Jesse, after my failures at Caulfield…”

“I told you,” Alex said wryly. “Just trying to piss my dad off one last time.”

Alex risked a glance down at Michael and shrugged. “You’ve...done a lot for me, actually.” 

“Not enough. Never enough. But let me tell you this…” He put a fatherly hand on his shoulder. “I’m so proud of you, son. Of the man you’re becoming. Not because of Jesse, but despite him. I know you’re going to do amazing things.”

Alex chuckled, like he didn't quite believe him, but he was trying. "Maybe now I can."

“And I’m going to do one more thing for you. Kyle told me a little more about what’s been going on with you two at school. He’s not going to give you any more grief, and if he does, you come to me. It’s not snitching; I know better than to give up my source.”

Alex really laughed that time, surprised that Michael wasn't waking up yet. "I think we'll work it out on our own. If he only stops being a bully because you force him to, is he really a better person in the end?"

Jim laughed too. “Showing him why and how to correct course when he’s going down the wrong path is kind of my job, kiddo. But if you want to be left out of it, I’ll do my best.”

He suspected Michael might be willing to be his informant if anyone was hurting Alex at school.

Alex nodded, managing a small smile. "Looking forward to seeing that in action."

“I need to get to work. You just give me a call if you need anything, okay? And we’ll work together on the hearing and on getting you into the DeLuca house, okay? You’ll be in the loop the whole way.”

"Sounds good. Thanks, Mr. Valenti."

"I think when you save a man's life you're allowed to call him Jim."

Alex smirked. "Okay, Jim."

He waited until Jim was gone before poking Michael in the ribs. "Okay, the sleeping act stops now. I seriously have to pee."

Michael flinched and opened his eyes, trying to hold so still and not hold him tighter or nuzzle into his shoulder before he had to let go. He gave Alex his most innocent face, then his most charming smile when that didn’t work. 

“Sorry. You make a good pillow,” he said.

"You calling me fat?" Alex teased. "You make a good blanket. Hey, we should borrow a thermometer here. I wanna see what your temp is."

“Oh, um…” he scooted away a little bit, enough to let Alex up. “Um, go ahead and use the bathroom, I’ll be right here. Or, um, I’ll get back into the chair instead, sorry, you can have your bed back.”

"Michael, it's okay," Alex said. "Look, I'm gay, but that doesn't mean I can't have a best friend that's a guy. You're not freaking me out by your physical proximity. Are you okay with this?"

“O-oh. Yeah, yeah! I’m okay. With it. I’m okay.” 

The words tumbled out too quickly, worms wriggling through Michael’s stomach. Friends. Best friends. They could be that, sure. Wait, should he come out to Alex now? Did he even know what he was, really? What if he was wrong, how would he say that later, was that even allowed?

_ I’m bisexual.  _ The words were on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn’t make them drop, so he rubbed his palms on his knees and said something else instead.

“Sorry, it wasn’t you, it was the thermometer thing. I know you know about the alien thing now and you’re okay with it, or curious, but...medical stuff has been our biggest fear for like a long time. Being discovered...being dissected.” He shuddered and grabbed his backpack off the floor and started fiddling with the zipper. “Especially after seeing…” 

"Oh, Jesus, no," Alex gasped. "I'm sorry. That's not—that’s not at all what I meant! I just wondered have you ever taken your temperature? With a home thermometer? I was just curious."

“Yeah, I thought it would be helpful to at least know my own baseline. It was a few years ago though, and I’ve never really been sick, but…” He trusted Alex. With everything. A tiny little health fact is nothing. “My normal temperature at age, like, 12 was 101.5. Do with that what you will, I guess.” 

Alex started singing, " _ Hot blooded! Check it and see-ee, I got a fever of a hundred and three! _ "

“You’re such a dork,” Michael laughed. Alex’s singing always made him smile, though.

The tension broken, Alex got up and went to the bathroom, using crutches to get there, washed his hands and his face, and winced at how gaunt he looked in the mirror—guess getting shot really took it out of you. 

When he hobbled back to the bed, Michael was still picking at the zipper and staring at his hands. A weird blush tinged his ears pink, though, and he stuttered when he spoke.

“Um, actually, listen, about earlier...I’m really, I don’t, I mean...I’m definitely okay. With being friends with you, being close to you. BecauseI’mbisexual. So uh. Friends, right?”

"Oh. Wait, really?" Alex's hopes were already up, so he didn't mind edging them up even further to think, to hope, someday— "That's awesome! Absolutely still friends. Best friends. Plus your sisters and—and  _ my _ sister." 

Alex reeled, sitting down heavily. "You're going to have to give me tips, man. Getting sisters later in life. You, me, and Kyle should start a club."

“You and me in a club with Kyle? Who needs him?” Michael scoffed, but his grin was wide and relieved.

_ Friends. Cool. _

_ Cool. _


	18. Chapter 18

Maria had the easiest time with her costume, since she literally just washed her hair and then didn’t touch it. No product, no combing, nothing. It curled wildly and witchily on its own. 

Alex, meanwhile, was trying to shove his hair into a red wig, which was easier said than done. 

He had been out of school for two weeks, one for the injury and another for the hearing about Jesse Manes and the fate of the three boys. Greg and Flint went to live with their mom in Gallup, and Mimi DeLuca became Alex’s legal guardian so he could stay at the same school where he was excelling (aside from one recent detention linked to trouble at home). This included the plan that Alex would go away for part of the summers to see his mom and brothers. That had been Alex’s idea, actually, after his conversation with Michael about getting to have a bit of both parts of his life if he wanted them. Maybe by then Flint would be deprogrammed or whatever, and some time away from Michael might help Alex sort out his feelings about him. 

They had done _Harry Potter_ costumes last year (another reason Maria’s costume was so easy, since she was just repeating it), but while Michael had physically made for a better Ron Weasley, and Alex a fitting Harry Potter, after the most recent installment, Alex’s fierce love for Ron Weasley made him insistent that Michael take the eyeliner to his forehead to draw a lightning bolt instead and let _him_ be the obviously superior character. Ron even had an injured leg in _The Prisoner of Azkaban_ —book, obviously.

“Do you need...help?” Maria asked. 

“No,” Alex said sharply, as he struggled to collect his hair under the cheap ginger wig. Finally, he sighed. “Yes. Please.” 

“Ooh, asking for help instead of suffering through it. Mark the date!” 

Alex shot her a withering look, but her laughter at him was good-natured so it didn’t last long. It was much faster, too, to have an extra set of hands as she settled the wig on his head. When she pulled back, though, she laughed again, and Alex pouted.

“Red is _not_ your color. If you still wanna bleach your hair this summer I’ll help, but I think I just discovered that if you wanna dye it red I’m going to have to intervene.”

"I'm thinking rainbow. You know, to really advertise," Alex chuckled. He pulled Maria into a hug. "Thank you. I know I'm still learning how to be a good brother. You know, since I was raised by lions."

Mimi and Maria were both going to murder him if he left the toilet seat up one more time, for example. 

“Hey, I’m learning too. I’ve been an only child my whole life, and suddenly people are telling me I have to _share?_ I hope you appreciate how hard this is for me.”

Alex chuckled. "We weren't exactly taught to share as much as fight for scraps, so, still think you're doing better."

Maria glanced behind him at the gecko tank. “I think Willow’s happier to have both her parents in her life again.” 

Alex laughed. 

Maria tweaked his tie and then turned to face the mirror. “There are some perks, though. Mom’s awful at tying ties and I’m no better. Help me out!”

"Ah, see, here in this household of strong independent women who don't need no man it’s nice to be in demand," Alex teased, pulling out her tie before re-tying it. "Under normal circumstances I can also lift heavy objects and put them down again. And when I'm a foot taller than you like Greg, I'll reach tall things for you."

“Shut up, Mom literally manages an entire bar, I’m sure she can lift more than you,” Maria giggled. “And you never know, you might be short forever. Maybe Greg’s just the outlier.”

"You're so mean," Alex laughed, just as the doorbell rang. He called as Maria ran to grab it, "Was Liz coming trick or treating or just Michael?"

Alex followed slower on his crutches as Maria opened the door to reveal just Michael, grinning at them through thick fake glasses. 

“She stayed to help Rosa finish setting up, but I weaseled out of it,” he said, having heard Alex through the door. “She’ll catch up with us at the Evanses. You guys ready to go?”

“Yeah!” Maria said, grabbing their wands from the table and handing Alex’s off to him. 

"Draw!" Alex shouted, wheeling on Michael like this was the Old West instead of Hogwarts, and launching surprise glitter at Michael with the attack. 

Michael spluttered through the glitter shower, and the glare he shot Alex was hilariously fond. Maria hooked her arms through both boys’ and tugged them down the driveway with her, at a only slightly uneven pace (Alex set about his recovery with the intensity he applied to everything, and was surprisingly quick on his crutches). Michael’s costume was several inches too short this go-around, when last year he’d been tripping over it constantly.

“I’m surprised you were on board for the group look again this year,” Maria teased, “Thought you might ditch us to be little green men with the Evans twins or something.”

“Ha ha, very funny. You know, I’m regretting telling you about that.”

“The best place to hide is in plain sight!” Maria pressed. Learning that her best friend was an alien and that her grandmother may have been involved with aliens, too, somehow, seemed kind of fanciful, in the way her mom could kind of see the future. She wasn’t sure it wasn’t some elaborate joke, still, but whatever. 

"Anyway, Liz and Rosa are doing Glenda and the Wicked Witch so they're technically on theme," Alex said, and then frowned in thought at Michael. "I guess you could have been the Wizard of Oz…"

"Maybe he doesn't want to have to choose between his sets of siblings," Maria suggested. 

“Nah, Max and Iz don’t do theme costumes. Iz thinks they’re undignified or something. Rosa, on the other hand, thinks it’s her mission in life to strip me of my dignity. She wanted me to be Toto.”

Maria and Alex cracked up at that.

“Max kept with the magic theme though. Wait ‘til you see his Gandalf beard—it’s seriously impressive. Iz is too good for us now though and isn’t doing the costume thing at all. She’s coming to the party, though.” 

"Sounds like her," Maria said, though she was admitting to herself that she was coming to love Isobel being a part of their friend group, even when she was contrary. Isobel kept Rosa out of trouble through sheer determination, and had a pretty sweet basement entertainment space that Maria wasn't too proud to admit was awesome. And Michael loved her, so Maria could, too, she supposed. "Have Alex fix your tie. I'll go tell my mom we're ready."

Alex looked Michael up and down when she was gone. "Your tie is fine. Your lightning bolt is kinda crooked, though."

“I should have waited to get you to apply it in the first place. More experience with the eyeliner pencil.” Michael nudged him gently with his shoulder and Alex grinned. “So...how are you settling in? All moved in?”

"Oh yeah, it's great!" Alex said, his whole face lighting up. "There's some adjustments. Guess you know all about that. How did you...what helped you, when you moved in with the Ortechos?"

“Mostly that they’re the most stubborn people in existence,” he said. “I mean, you remember, we fought about it like immediately after meeting, I was just...super closed off. Everything looked like an enemy or a trap or a trick to take everything away from me or me away from everything. But Liz did so much to make me feel like I belonged, and Rosa could cut through my bullshit so easily, and Arturo was so patient and never used fear as a weapon...I owe them so much.” He cleared his throat. “Haha, sorry for the lovey dovey crap. Um, I don’t know if you had to share a bathroom at your old place, but get quick at calling dibs on school mornings, that’s the best advice I’ve got.”

Alex laughed aloud, tugging Michael into a hug. “I love it when you get all sentimental. Maria’s good at cutting through my bullshit and Mimi’s really patient, too. Mostly it’s moving from an all-guys house to an all-girls house that’s the major culture shock…”

“Tell me about it,” Maria said. “He makes his bed with military corners but doesn’t know how to use a vacuum. It’s so weird.” 

“Okay, okay, I didn’t think it was powerful enough to just suck your underwear up off the floor! You shouldn’t have left them on the floor, anyway!” Alex shot back. 

“I can’t help you there,” Michael gasped in between laughs. “Rosa would murder me If I went into their room at all, even to clean it.”

They stowed Michael’s bike in the garage and all piled into Mimi’s car, hyper and excited even before the infusion of sugar they were about to get. For Michael and Alex both, trick or treating was a childhood activity that still felt new, a freedom to let loose that they’d been denied when they were smaller and should have done it more. Maria was just so happy to have her friends with her, to have Alex safe with them, to have Rosa safe from her nightmares, and ready to celebrate.

… 

“Rich people neighborhoods!” Maria exclaimed, after they had been by a few houses on the way to Max and Isobel’s. “Either they give out the king size candybars or it’s like one Werther’s Originals. No consistency! And we look so cute! You’re even on crutches!” 

“Quick, get the eggs and toilet paper, we’re almost at the Evanses,” Alex said, loudly, up at the top window where Max’s room was. 

“No, don’t! I’m coming!” Max called mildly, either ignoring the threat or not getting that it was a joke, waving from above and shutting his window before thundering down the stairs. They heard him call “Mom, we’re leaving!” before he ran out the door, grinning hugely. 

Alex almost found Max’s earnestness _attractive_ , which was scary. And his Gandalf costume was good, obviously homemade with a love of Middle-earth and a little help from Mrs. Evans’ sewing machine. 

“Be prepared to be called ‘Dumbledore’ all night,” Maria said. 

“I’m obviously carrying a staff, have no glasses, and am dressed in gray. Who would think I’m Dumbledore?” Max asked incredulously. 

“I see you’ve got the book-accurate eyebrows,” Alex said, also grinning. 

“Authenticity is important,” Max said, serious as a heart attack even as Michael scoffed.

“So we spent all that time at the library finding pretty blonde elf art and you still couldn’t convince Iz to be Galadriel, huh,” he teased.

“One year I’ll get her to commit to a theme,” Max replied, with certainty.

“Oh, she’s on theme this year,” Liz said, flouncing out of the Evanses house in a giant pink ballgown. It had been Isobel’s 7th grade social gown and it still fit the diminutive Liz. With some tule filling out the skirt, a crown and a wand, she made a close approximation to Glenda the Good Witch from _The Wizard of Oz_. 

Alex and Maria gave her an imperceptible double-take, seeing her coming out of _Max Evans’ house_. Everyone knew Max was into her, but so far she didn’t seem to give him the time of day. But like, she had been naked in Max’s house?? Was this a thing?? 

“We had some bio homework to work on,” Liz explained. “And I’m borrowing Isobel’s dress, so it worked out.” 

Maria and Alex still looked skeptical, but allowed this. Liz’s faint blush didn’t help her case, nor did the goofy smile on Max’s face. 

Alex marshalled his troops to hit all the best houses, avoiding as many of the Werthers-and-weird-strawberrys houses as possible on Max’s recommendations, until they all had bags and pillowcases bulging with candy. Being with Max was an extra cheat code; his painful earnestness endeared him to every neighbor in a five-mile radius. 

Finally, when they were done and it was late enough that most of the porch lights were going out, Mr. Evans drove them all to the Crashdown for the party.

The Crashdown was closed to customers and decorated spookily by Rosa and Isobel—and that right there was a scary combination. But Rosa kept it from getting too kitschy and Isobel kept it from getting too macabre (or actively destructive, since Arturo and Mimi were already “chaperoning” from the back office with a few beers and weren’t paying the kids much mind). Kate and Jasmine were there, and even Kyle Valenti was in attendance with one or two of his “slightly less douchey” friends, by some metric according to Rosa. The Jukebox was playing “Thriller” and “Monster Mash” and “Time Warp,” all the good Halloween bops, with the chairs pushed out of the way enough to make a small dance floor. Isobel (Mrs. Evans) had obviously supplied the snacks, since it was all the good Costco snacks you couldn’t get in Roswell. 

And Isobel _was_ on theme—by some definition. Her hair was in two braids and she was wearing an alarmingly short blue dress with a white apron, and red shoes. 

“Slutty Dorothy?” Maria asked. She matched costumes with _Rosa and Liz_??

“Maria!” Mimi called from the back. “We don’t use that word!” 

“I said ‘sexy,’ Mama!” 

“ _Mm-hmm.”_

Isobel tossed her braids and grinned sharply. 

“Mom is thrilled that she’s blossoming into a young woman,” Max said helpfully, and Isobel glared at him like she was trying to set him on fire. Which, for all Maria knew, maybe she could.

Michael ran everyone’s candy bags upstairs to keep them out of the way. By the time he rejoined the party, everyone had dispersed into little groups, and he joined Max and Isobel at the snack table.

"I'm glad we made it out to see your mom," Isobel said lowly, surprising them both by being serious where just a moment ago she confessed to dipping a Kit Kat in salsa and actually liking it. "I'm glad our...people are safe. I could feel it. You know, they weren't great, but they were better."

“It felt like when we dreamed of the pods as kids,” Max agreed. He had given up on his beard so he could eat, and it was pulled down under his chin. “Weird and kind of scary, but also...right, y’know? Connected.”

“I’m sorry we haven’t found your guys’s parents or anything yet,” Michael said. “I thought there might be someone you’d feel _more_ connected to or something.”

“Maybe they’re there,” Isobel said with a shrug, munching some chips dipped in salsa so she didn’t have to look at either of them. “I’m not sure how we’d know. I’m still annoyed that in the middle of people being killed and shot and rescuing POWs you couldn’t ask about _our_ parents...” But she winked, not serious at all. 

“When she wakes up, my mom can probably tell you all about your mom. We’ll all learn about her together,” Michael said firmly.

“It’s okay, Michael,” Max said. “Really. I mean, I want to know about her, but if her story is sad...I want to be grateful for the things I’ve got, y’know? Focus on how hard she fought for us and make it worth it.”

“Yeah,” Michael agreed. He wasn’t sure whether he was grateful he knew about what happened to his mother, since it was so terrible. But he was definitely glad she was alive, and in a better place now. And he was secretly glad, too, that he didn’t have to leave his friends and new family here, just yet. 

“I just want to know which of us was born first, or hatched first or whatever,” Isobel said, pragmatically. “Or if we’re royalty or peasants, or supposed to save the world or something.” 

Max gasped. “See, you _do_ like sci-fi!” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Isobel said haughtily, snapping a carrot stick between her teeth.

“If you’re a queen, it’s only because you’re a xenomorph,” Michael teased, and she kicked him under the table with her _very sharp_ ruby slippers. 

When they rejoined the party, Maria and Alex had cracked out an old karaoke setup and were fighting over who got to do the first song. 

"It's like they've been siblings this whole time," Max commented, hiding his grin in the beard he had put back on. 

“Oh no, someone hide me before they make me sing,” Michael groaned.

“Hey, Michael wants to sing!” Isobel said loudly.

"That's fine, he can be third. After me and after Alex!" Maria said, tugging the microphone away from Alex. 

Alex sighed and let her have it. The karaoke setup was from the early 90s, so Rosa’s kind of music, anyway, and she picked the songs. Maria sang "Say My Name" with relish and then Alex sang "Truly Madly Deeply" under extreme duress, but then they _killed_ "Genie in a Bottle" as a duet before they remembered Michael wanted to sing something. 

"Get over here, Dweeb!" Rosa called in her _don't make me come after you_ voice.

“Death would be kinder!” he called back, but enough of his friends and family were awful traitors who loved to watch him suffer that he ended up prodded and corralled and eventually pinned in place between Alex and Maria, a microphone stuffed in his hand.

“See, if you didn’t make them drag you over here like a little wuss, you’d get to pick your own song,” Rosa said as she selected “Wonderwall,” though Michael doubted that very much. 

“Oh, come on, don’t crush his soul,” Alex said. “How about ‘Tubthumping’? It’s mostly spoken, anyway.” 

Rosa laughed. “Oh, okay, that’s even better!” 

Michael stumbled through the song, hamming it up enough to pull Maria and Alex into singing along with him, until it was over and with great relief he could shove the microphone into Max’s hand.

He left the party just for a second to get away from the crowd, pushing through the doors to the kitchen. 

“Anything I can get you?” he asked Arturo and Mimi as he poured himself a glass of water.

“We’re doing alright, mijo,” Arturo said, opening one arm for a hug. “Is your sister bullying you? Do I need to talk to her?” 

“I think you have a very nice singing voice,” Mimi commented. “Or will once it evens out.” 

“Pssh, it would’ve been nicer just to pretend you hadn’t heard,” Michael said, hugging Arturo. “Don’t worry about me, I’ll get her back.”

Arturo liked that his boy had both gotten over the shy, mistrustful stage, but also wasn’t too grown up to hug him in public, and he patted his back. He was a little red-faced from the beer he had been drinking, but he was so happy hearing the chatter and laughter—and now singing—from the children in the other room. Finally he said, “You know that artichoke dip from the Costco...you could bring me some of that. And some chips. I want to try to recreate it.” 

“Aye aye,” Michael said with a salute and did as he was asked, coming back with enough of the dip for Arturo and Mimi to share and for Arturo to have some to dissect later.

When he went back out to the party, Jim had arrived to take Kyle and his friends home—it was still a school night, after all—but he’d gotten temporarily roped into belting out “Don’t Stop Believin’” for a delighted Rosa and a humiliated Kyle.

Then the Evanses were picked up, and the other kids, before finally Mimi took Maria and Alex home. That felt good, for Alex, going home arm in arm with his sister, in some ways truly going home for the first time. 

Rosa locked the door and turned back around to smile at her family. "You guys! That was, like, a happening party! No one embarrassed me! People came to it! Thank you!"

"It was a big mess," Arturo added, handing her a trash bag. 

Rosa took care of the trash while Liz did the floors and tables and Michael took down all the decorations. He smirked at Liz as he worked a fake pumpkin head off one of the alien statues.

“So biology homework, huh?”

“Shut up.” She was wearing too much glitter for him to tell if she was blushing. “You know Max is hopeless. Someone had to help him.”

“You mean _you_ had to help him.”

“He needs more help than _that_ ,” Rosa coughed, shoulder-checking her as she went past. “It’s okay if you want to pity-date him, I won’t tell dad.” 

“Tell me what?” Arturo asked, taking the bag of decorations from Michael and handing him a rag to wipe down the tables with. “If you have time to talk about who Liz is not dating until she is twenty-five then you have time to clean.”

“C’ _mon_ , Dad,” Liz and Michael said at the exact same time, making them shoot glares at each other that quickly morphed into grins as they got back to work.

Next time they passed each other, Michael said, “Don’t worry, however much Rosa teases you, I’ll dish it out to Max twice as hard.”

“I don’t know, Max is so nice. I don’t get him at all, but he’s really nice,” Liz asked him, quietly. “You know him better than I do. Should I...is he a good guy?” 

“He’s...ridiculous. Goofy as hell. Super self-righteous at times. And also smart, protective, earnest...c’mon, you know Max. He’d do anything for people he cares about, and it’s super annoying.”

“So is that a yes? Should I date him?” Liz asked. “If he asked. He hasn’t. He’s just so nice. And goofy, God, you’re right.” 

“Yeah, when you’re twenty-five. After you graduate with your Master’s degree, and you and Michael make enough to support Papi in his old age.” Rosa stuffed a box of decorations into Liz’s hands, and another into Michael’s. “Who needs men, anyways, except to do the heavy lifting?” 

“That is right! Men are trash!” Arturo called from the kitchen. “Present company excepted! Now go upstairs! Brush your teeth extra good! All this candy!” He trailed off, muttering to himself in Spanish.

Rosa stomped upstairs first to hog the bathroom. With their hall closet otherwise occupied, decorations went under Liz’s bed, and Michael stowed both boxes there before sitting down next to his sister.

“I’m not matchmaking between my sets of siblings, that’s, like, weird,” he said, nudging her with his knuckles. “Just...don’t be afraid to make the first move yourself, y’know? Max reads way too many books about unrequited love.”

Liz shrugged and giggled. “Guess I’m not dating til I’m twenty-five, anyway. I can wait.” 

“Max’ll keep you waiting longer than that, just watch.”

“You better watch out, Kyle is into you, too,” Rosa said, returning from the bathroom in her pajamas. “And you’re absolutely not allowed to date _him_ until he stops being a dick to Alex. But I heard from Lindsey Branson that he’s good in bed so might be worth it to try.” 

On instinct, all three of them turned their heads to the door to make sure their dad hadn’t heard, then Liz punched Rosa, blushing furiously.

Michael washed up, brushed his teeth, stowed his costume in the bottom drawer of his dresser for next year—maybe, if they went as a group again, if they hadn’t all grown out of dressing up too much by then. For now, he flopped down on his bed, reached over to touch Alex’s red flower like he did every night before falling asleep, and turned out the lights.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, for it to be circa 2004 and it's still fun to be a _Harry Potter_ fan. 
> 
> Thanks for reading our happy little AU. A special thank you to those who commented and kudoed and chatted with us about this on Discord. 
> 
> We are well into writing part three (senior year!), so please subscribe to the series and stay tuned!


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